


When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

by cnroth



Series: When We All Fall Asleep [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Mirror Universe, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Betrayal, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Heartbreak, M/M, Multi, Post-Episode: s07e12 The Emperor's New Cloak, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Rebellion, Space Pirates, Violence, Voyager Mirror March, Xenophobia, also there are easter eggs for Disco MU, have fun, it’s a wild ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-27 09:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18192944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnroth/pseuds/cnroth
Summary: Captain Kathryn Janeway is the most notorious privateer in the Sol sector, but what she wants more than anything is freedom from the Alliance.Captain Chakotay is a resistance fighter desperate to prevent conflict over a powerful piece of technology that has recently arrived from an alternate universe.Together, these two enemy captains strike a deal to pull off a heist that could give them both what they want, but it’s a mission that every side of the war would see as treason. In the harsh mirror universe, such an act can only lead to one of two outcomes—victory or death.That is, if their dangerous attraction doesn’t kill them first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to angrywarrior69 for putting on the Mirror March event, and to devovere for her beta work on this crazy story.

Nothing fired Kathryn up like getting a little blood on her hands.  
  
Tom Paris, her Terran pilot and absolute favorite crewman beneath her command, deftly slid his tongue over her clitoris, back and forth, circling one way and the next, until Kathryn was screaming with ecstasy. His fingers curled inside her even as she pulsed around him, sending bolts of electricity up and down her arching spine. If he hadn’t been holding her hips to the mattress, she may very well have thrown them both off the bed.  
  
As she came back to herself, Kathryn glanced down to see Tom’s bright blue eyes peering up at her, laugh lines beginning to form around them as he grinned. He licked his lips, head still framed by her pale thighs and looking quite pleased with himself. “Feel better, Captain?”  
  
She let her legs slip from his shoulders to relax on the bed, opening her mouth to reply just as a request for entry sounded at the door. “Come,” she said, sitting up and combing her fingers through Tom’s tousled dirty-blonde hair.  
  
The door to her quarters slid open and Quartermaster Marta Zelle, her first mate, stepped in. Light from the corridor silhouetted the slender woman and made her long chestnut hair glow red around the edges. She pulled a reader from her brown leather jacket and offered it to the captain. “Our acquisitions from the Andorian vessel.”  
  
Kathryn snatched the device, scrolling greedily through the take even as she asked, “Anything good?”  
  
“Enough dilithium to power _Ching Shih_ for a year. Weapons, food, medical supplies, intel for the intendant... oh, and about six thousand darseks.”  
  
“Excellent.” Kathryn grinned, then tossed the reader aside. “Care to join?”  
  
Marta sighed. “It’s a tempting offer, but I think I’d rather just sleep. Maybe next time.”  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
“Enjoy your night, Captain.” With that, the woman turned and left.  
  
“Her loss,” Tom mumbled, kissing his way up Kathryn’s stomach and skimming his hands over her curves as she laid back. “What’s your pleasure tonight?” He ground into her hips, cock sliding lazily against her. “Let me help you relax?” He leaned down and bit her earlobe. “Or would you rather fuck me into oblivion?”  
  
“Mmm,” she said, canting her hips against his as she considered the question. Tom kissed and nibbled at her neck, and they both undulated against one another. Kathryn drew her knees up on either side of the man’s lanky body. “It’s been a long day. I think I’d rather just relax.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Tom murmured before sucking a dusky pink nipple into his mouth. His concentration didn’t even falter as he slid his cock inside her, filling the aching need she’d felt since slitting the Andorian captain’s throat. A hand slipped between their joined bodies, Tom’s clever fingers finding her clitoris but avoiding direct stimulation.

Pressure within; pressure without. And she didn’t have to do a damn thing. It was perfect.  
  
Slowly, one smooth stroke after another, he built her up to a deep climax that vibrated through her every muscle like a bow recently fired. Over and over he plucked at her, pulled her taut, and released her again until she simply had nothing more to give.

“Enough,” she said, shoving his hand away. “Finish.”

“Aye, Captain.”

With a few more quick thrusts, Tom grunted, pulsed inside her, and collapsed in a trembling heap onto the mattress. Soon, his breathing took on the deep, even rhythm of sleep.  
  
What an idiot he was to let his guard down like that. It was a quick way to get oneself killed. If Kathryn hadn’t been so fond of Tom, she might have stabbed him just for being stupid. If he hadn’t left her feeling utterly boneless, she might have done him the favor of threatening his life to teach him a valuable lesson. Instead, she simply nudged him awake.  
  
He started, mumbled a half-hearted apology, and got up to collect his things.  
  
Kathryn was still in a bit of a post-orgasmic haze, watching Tom pull clothes back over that beautiful body, when a comm alert sounded and the voice of her young protégé, Boatswain Harry Kim, filled the room. It was laced with far too much worry for her liking. “Captain, you’d better get in here. The comm array just lit up with signals all over the sector. Something about the regent.”  
  
Tom stopped mid-button and frowned.  
  
She groaned. It was one thing letting Marta see her in a state of undress with a lover in the room. Marta was her mate in more ways than one, and there was little Kathryn hid from her. It would be another thing entirely to let the crew see her out of her usual attire. Going to the bridge meant putting on all of her armor, holsters, weapons...  
  
Hell. Was a full night’s sleep after a good fuck really too much to ask?  
  
“Why don’t you put that oversized brain to use,” she growled at Harry, finger jammed so hard on the comm button by her bed that her skin turned red. “Find the most important message and route it to my console.”  
  
In her mind’s eye, she could see the verbal slap land, see the man flinch and grimace, then grit his teeth and do his job. “Aye, Captain,” he said tersely before dropping the connection.  
  
“Should I stay?” Tom asked, hands still paused over a button.  
  
Kathryn ticked an eyebrow. “Why would I want that?”  
  
“It’d just be a shame for all that hard work I put into helping you relax go to waste.”  
  
Her lips twitched up before she could stop them, but she quickly forced them into a scowl. “Don’t presume that just because I allow you into my bed means you have a right to anything that belongs to me—including information. I serve at the behest of Intendant Miral and the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance, whereas you are only here because I want you here. Now, get out before I throw you out of an airlock.”  
  
Tom shrugged and stooped to grab his shoes. His shirt was half unbuttoned, lean muscles making small ripples beneath his scarred skin. When he righted himself, he returned her gaze with a hungry smile. “Let me know if you need any more assistance tonight, Captain.”  
  
Kathryn did not respond, nor did Tom wait for her to. Instead, he simply left, and she watched him go.  
  
When the door slid shut behind him, she gave herself a few minutes to clean up in the head while Harry decided on which signal to send her. She took a clean towel and ran it under the cold tap, wringing it out before wiping up the fluids that slicked her thighs and stuck in the short auburn curls between them. Tossing the towel in the recycler, she took out her makeup eraser and ran it over blood red lips, rouged cheeks, and smoky eyelids. When she was done, only the natural colors of her features remained—stone white skin, a thin pink mouth, and gunmetal-blue eyes.

She frowned into the mirror. Something about the situation felt... off. The day had been a relatively normal one—slinking around Sol’s neighboring systems, tracking down targets for Intendant Miral and keeping a sharp eye for other profitable marks along the way. But the tone of Harry’s voice concerned her more than she cared to admit. 

It was his job to monitor all comms within her ship’s range. People tended to forget how easy it was to intercept messages and listen to their calls when one had the right tools, and information was a valuable currency. He’d heard so much over the past few years on Kathryn’s ship that nothing surprised him anymore. Somehow, this chatter was different.  
  
Just as her patience with young Harry was about to reach its end, Kathryn’s private console made its new-message trill.  
  
Finally.  
  
Kathryn snatched a black robe from the hook and slipped it on as she strode over to her desk and took a seat. The message was in _Hol chu’_ —New Klingonese—sent between two ships of different military units. It was marked “high priority.’“ She knew enough of the language to be conversational—after all, Klingons had co-governed her homeworld for a century—but she ran it through the translator anyway.  
  
“General,” a man’s voice said, “We have just received word from our comrades on Betazed. Regent Worf’s vessel has been captured by the Terran rebels on Terok Nor. We do not know whether the package was genuine or if the Trill bitch fabricated its existence so she could lure him into a trap. There have been no transmissions bragging of the regent’s death, so we presume he is still alive. If this is true, he has been gravely dishonored. You know what this means.”  
  
The transmission abruptly ended.  
  
A thousand questions raced through Kathryn’s mind. How had it happened? What would the Terran Resistance do next? How had the other major Alliance powers—the Cardassians and the Bajorans—reacted to the news? Who was in charge of Klingon affairs in the regent’s absence? What the hell did they mean by “the package?”

She dared not speak such questions aloud. The news wouldn’t stay contained for long. Soon, her crew would find out what had happened. If she let on that the regent’s capture made her nervous, it could disrupt feelings among the crew and spark dangerous ideas. 

No, that wouldn’t do.  
  
“Regent Worf is a fool,” she muttered to herself, and it was true. He deserved whatever was coming to him. From the sound of it, he was even worse than dead. Being captured alive was the ultimate dishonor for a Klingon warrior, and even someone in his position couldn’t overcome that kind of shame.

It didn’t matter. Leaders in the Alliance came and went, squabbling for brief moments of power only to be ousted by the next preening wannabe. Intendant Miral was a rare exception, but even she was living on stolen time. Only those who knew their place and played the game with realistic ambitions survived—people like Kathryn.

Sympathizer, people called her. The bitch of Sol system. The intendant’s monster. No matter. What did she care if they screamed a few vile insults at her as she cut their throats and took their goods? If anything, the regent’s capture would be incredibly profitable for her. A void in power tended to draw out all manner of foolish marks on which she could prey. Regardless of who clawed their way to Kahless’s throne next, Kathryn would find a way to survive and thrive.  
  
She always did.


	2. Chapter 2

Kathryn had been right about the regent’s capture—news did not stay contained. By the next morning, it was all anyone on board could talk about.  
  
“I heard the resistance beheaded him.”  
  
“I heard they’re using telepaths to get intelligence out of him.”  
  
“I heard Supreme Legate Dukat set the whole thing up so the Cardassians could take over the Alliance.”  
  
Even her bridge crew was going on about it. What the hell was Marta thinking letting that sort of talk go on under her watch?

“Enough!” Kathryn finally snapped. “Bos’n, put me on shipwide comm.”  
  
“Aye, Captain,” Harry said. “Comm open.”  
  
“To the crew of the battle cruiser _Ching Shih_ , this is your captain. Since the moment I walked out of my quarters this morning, I’ve heard nothing but speculation and scuttlebutt regarding Regent Worf’s capture. May I remind you that this ship is under the authority of Intendant Miral, daughter of L’Naan, decorated warrior of the Klingon Empire and Intendant of the Sol System for the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance.

“We are all subjects of the Alliance, and we will behave accordingly. Speculation will get us nowhere, and while I try to be a fair leader, some of the talk I’m hearing may just get you killed. So I offer you a choice. You will learn very quickly how to mind your tongues, or you will find your way to the nearest airlock. Janeway out.”  
  
For a few blissful minutes, there was silence on the bridge. It was glorious. Kathryn could hear her own thoughts again. Her temper had been running hot all morning. She needed to calm down. Rash, emotional decisions were dangerous—and not in a good way. They tended to get people killed.  
  
Inevitably, just as the heat in Kathryn’s veins began to cool, Harry’s console screeched.  
  
“What is it?” she asked.  
  
“Proximity alert,” Harry said. “There’s a small vessel moving towards us at high warp on an intercept course.”  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“Not sure. Configuration matches Alliance raiders, but the transponder is saying something else. I think it might be resistance.”  
  
Kathryn glanced at her first mate, who was manning tactical, and smiled. “I do love it when the marks come to us.”  
  
Marta smiled back. “Couldn’t agree more, Captain. Diverting power to shields, readying weapons, calling crew to battle stations.”  
  
“Time to intercept?”  
  
“Six minutes,” Harry said.  
  
“Well, they sure snuck up on us, didn’t they?” Tom said.  
  
“Good,” Kathryn said. “I hate waiting on an easy mark. Let’s get this done.”  
  
“Captain,” Harry said, “the resistance ship is hailing.”  
  
Kathryn sighed, waving her hand lazily in Harry’s direction. “Fine, fine. Let’s see what they want.”  
  
When the view screen activated, a man with bronze skin and dark, silver-streaked hair looked back at her. His face was squared and his expression sure, two coffee-brown eyes entirely unafraid to meet hers. Strong muscles rippled and bulged beneath his fitted blue shirt, and the edges of a black tattoo on his chest peeked out from the deep v-neckline.

“Captain Janeway,” he said. “My name is—“

“Captain Chakotay,” she finished for him, “of the Terran rebel vessel _Valjean_.”

His eyebrows twitched. “So you know of me, then.”  
  
She knew him by reputation only but, by Kahless, did he have a reputation.

The man and his sister had literally dragged themselves out of slavery in the topaline mines when rebellion broke out on Ganymede. They were both formidable fighters, capturing dozens of ships, collecting gigaquads of intel, and slaughtering hundreds of Alliance troops—mostly Klingon warriors since Cardassians preferred not to stray too far from their home turf.

Since then, each sibling had been given their own unit to command in the resistance.

“I make it a point to know a great many things,” Kathryn said, “including the leadership of our local rebel scum. I really must thank you for coming to me. Now I won’t have to do the work of hunting you down.”  
  
Chakotay held up a finger as if shushing someone off-screen behind him. “I have a proposal that may make you delay that decision.”  
  
Her eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”  
  
“Before you disable my ship and clap my crew in irons, let me pay you a visit and explain what I have in mind. If you don’t like it, then may the best captain win. But I doubt it’ll come to that.”  
  
Kathryn narrowed her eyes, considering the man carefully. It could be a trap—not one he could hope to escape from alive, of course, but she wouldn’t put it past the resistance to send valuable people on a suicide mission to murder a prominent sympathizer like herself. What short-sighted idiots they were. But Chakotay struck her as more intelligent than the average rebel. So what game was he playing?  
  
There was only one way to find out.  
  
“Alright. I suppose I can spare a few minutes of my time before I kill you. I’ll even tell the intendant your last words.”  
  
“How generous,” he deadpanned.  
  
“You should be more grateful. I could just kill you. It’s what rebels deserve.”  
  
“Some would argue death is what sympathizers deserve. But we’re all just trying to survive in our own ways out here, aren’t we?”  
  
Ugh. Rebels and their philosophizing.  
  
“When you arrive at our location,” Kathryn said, “drop your shields and we will beam you aboard. No guards. No escort. Just you. Understood?”  
  
“Understood. Chakotay out.”  
  
At the helm, Tom was chuckling.  
  
“Is something funny, Helmsman?”  
  
“Oh, just thinking that man must have a serious death wish.”  
  
Kathryn stared at the screen where Captain Chakotay had been, not feeling quite as confident in that simplistic assessment as Tom clearly did. “Perhaps,” she said. “Whatever the case is, we will soon find out.”

* * *

“So Captain Chakotay,” Kathryn said, circling around the rebel leader in the middle of her office. “You’ve intrigued me enough to allow you aboard my ship. Now tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand and turn your crew over to the intendant.”  
  
He watched her with a dispassionate expression. “A few days ago, a Trill named Ezri Tigan crossed over into the alternate universe to steal something called a cloaking device. It bends light around a ship to make it invisible to sensors. She intended to deliver it to Regent Worf, but things changed and the resistance captured the regent’s ship. In the commotion following his capture, both the cloak and Ezri Tigan vanished.”  
  
“So the resistance wants you to find the device and kill the traitor.”  
  
He nodded. “We know she’s headed this way, and we know why.”  
  
Kathryn smirked. “It’s not hard to guess. This Tigan woman means to turn a profit and has a buyer nearby.”  
  
“Not just any buyer. Intendant Miral herself.”  
  
Her eyes widened at that. “Interesting. It seems our intendant means to take Kahless’s throne.”  
  
He nodded again. “And I intend to stop her. We’re gonna camp out near the meeting place, launch a surprise attack, and kill everyone.”  
  
“Let me get this straight. You want me to help you steal from, and then murder, my own employer—Intendant of the Sol sector and future Regent of the Empire?”  
  
“I thought you might want to be self-employed.”  
  
Inwardly, Kathryn had the impulse to smile. He was absolutely right. But she kept her expression neutral. “You can’t expect me to agree to something like this without damn good payment. Just imagine how much more profit I could get if my employer became regent.”

“Imagine how dead you could be if she fails,” he countered.  
  
Kathryn wanted to slap him. He was right, of course, but it infuriated her that he wasn’t playing along with her game. “What would I get out of this little act of treason?”  
  
“I’ll give you the cloak.”  
  
She lifted an eyebrow. “And why the hell would you do that?”  
  
“Everyone wants it. Every side. I want it off the board. So I tell you how to find it, and you beam it out while our people blow Tigan’s and the intendant’s ships to hell. My crew will think the cloak is destroyed with the enemy ships. No one will know you have it but me. You already have a reputation for sneaking up on people, and you don’t tend to leave survivors. If any rumors do get around about you appearing from nowhere and vanishing into nothing, it’ll just be tall tales about a notorious pirate to anyone with their wits about them.”

Kathryn came to a stop before him, teasing open his vest with sly fingers. “You do know how to get my attention.” She slipped her hands underneath the thick protective material, feeling around his shirt.  
  
“You know your men searched me when I came aboard,” he said. “Don’t you trust them?”  
  
She tucked her hands into the waistband of his pants, probing for hidden weapons. “I don’t trust anyone. That’s why I’m still alive.”  
  
Chakotay neither said nor did anything.  
  
Satisfied that there was nothing concealed at his waist, she moved on to search his pockets one by one. “This plan of yours... it isn’t endorsed by the resistance. Why bite the feeble hand that feeds you?”  
  
“They want want me to recover the cloak and return it to Terok Nor for them.”  
  
“That would be suicide,” she said, stooping down to frisk his legs and check his boots. “Not to wound your pride, Captain, but you’d never make it there without getting caught.”  
  
“Not without someone who knows how to operate the cloak, no.”  
  
“So capture the Trill and force her to operate it for you. Surely you have some means of coercion at your disposal.”  
  
“As I said, that cloak is the single most valuable piece of technology in both quadrants. People on all sides will die trying to steal it from whoever has it. Nothing good can come from that.”  
  
Finishing her search, Kathryn slowly rose to her full height, brushing against his body as she did. “Alright,” she said, “I’ll help you get this cloaking device. But if push comes to shove, it’s my orders we’ll be following, not yours.”  
  
Chakotay leaned in, his nose touching hers. He didn’t kiss her, didn’t even close his eyes, but the heady scent of his aftershave made her thighs clench.  
  
Kathryn kept her expression calm, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes as she slid her hands beneath his shirt to reach the warm skin underneath. He was the perfect specimen of what a Terran man should look like, in her educated opinion, and she wanted to have him eating out of her hand by the time they were done.

Every base instinct in her screamed to throw the man on the floor and fuck his brains out, but that wasn’t the way to get his submission or the device. Most rebels were romantics with grandiose notions about life. She needed to play the game slowly with him.  
  
Chakotay’s muscles trembled beneath her feather-light touch. His breaths came hot and quick, and the pulse point in his neck visibly throbbed. He ran both hands up her back until his fingers tangled in her hair. Then, with a swiftness she hadn’t anticipated, he fisted a clump of hair and jerked her head back.  
  
She grunted.  
  
The whine of her guard’s disruptor cut the silence with its wordless threat, but Chakotay didn’t seem to care. His dark eyes bore into Kathryn’s, ruthless and furious and beautiful. “I don’t follow anyone’s orders,” he growled. “So if that’s the price, you might as well shoot me now.”  
  
For a moment, Kathryn simply looked at the man trapped between her and the guard, grasping at power he had no right to. He was testing her authority. She should have killed him on the spot for his insolence. Just imagine the bounty she’d get from the intendant for his ship and crew! But that cloaking device meant freedom, which was something she’d never previously dared to hope for.  
  
Besides, there was more than one way to subdue a man.  
  
She smiled, curling one leg around his knee as she dragged a hand slowly down his stomach. Her fingers stumbled over the fastenings of his pants and found what was rapidly becoming a very hard erection.  
  
He shuddered, momentarily loosening his grip on her hair.  
  
It was enough.  
  
Kathryn dropped her leg and threw her weight forward, toppling Chakotay off-balance. The guard barely had time to step out of the way before she had the rebel captain pinned against the bulkhead, her arm pressing into his throat. She grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the panel. “Tell me, Captain, do you have a death wish?”

His voice was strained, but his eyes were cold. “Not particularly.”

“So this really is your whole game, then?” she asked. “To offer me technology from another universe, technology I’ve never seen and cannot verify even exists, in exchange for committing treason against my employer and the Alliance? Surely, you must think I’m a fool if you believe I’ll fall for that.”

“I think you’re well-connected enough to already know that the technology exists, and I think you’re perceptive enough to recognize this as the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. Surely, you know as well as I do that you can’t count on any intendant to employ you and your crew forever. You need a long-term solution, and this is it.”

She pressed in closer, crushing his body between hers and the wall. She could taste his humid breath on her lips, see his throat bob as he struggled to swallow, feel his fingers digging into her hips.

He could fight it all he wanted, but Kathryn knew she’d already won.

“I’m gonna need some kind of assurance that this isn’t a trap,” she said.

“I can’t give you anything other than my own word.”

“Your word is no good to me, rebel.”

Licking his lips, he slid a hand down to caress her thigh. “Then maybe I can show you what kind of a man I am.”

With a smile and a growl, Kathryn dragged his lips to hers. She took the arm from his throat and wrapped it around his head as he thrust his tongue into her mouth as deep as he could go. She was already on the verge of coming just from the friction between them.

The hand on her hip wandered, passing under the knife behind her back and settling on her ass.

So he didn’t want her dead, then. Yet.  
  
Neither did he seem to need a slow seduction like she’d assumed. With a knee, he parted her legs and rubbed her off with his thigh.  
  
The orgasm was small and quick, a mere release of tension. It set their course, though. After that, it was only a matter of jockeying for position.  
  
Releasing her grip on his hair, Kathryn unclipped the gun holsters from her belt and pulled apart the thigh bands, tossing the weapons towards the corner where she knew her guard had concealed himself in the shadows. She braced one foot against the wall as she unzipped the knee-high boot it was clad in, then kicked it off and undid the other. Grabbing Chakotay by the shoulders, she pushed him down to his knees.  
  
Except he didn’t budge.  
  
“Don’t think I’m not aware of what you’re doing, Kathryn.”  
  
“That’s rather daring, calling me by name when we’ve only just met.” Palming his erection through his pants, she leaned close to his ear and dropped her voice into a sultry, dangerous purr. “Chakotay.”  
  
“You have no idea how daring I can be.” Shoving off the wall, Chakotay lurched forward, carrying Kathryn with him and dumping her on the desk. With a sweep of his arm, he wiped every item from its surface. A collection of tablets, styli, and a few trinkets crashed unceremoniously to the deck.  
  
Then, with a ravenous look in his eyes, Chakotay reached for her.  
  
Kathryn lifted herself just enough for him to peel the leggings away from her body. Her panties went with them. She watched with lustful anticipation as he unbuttoned his own pants, slid them to the floor, and toed off his boots. Her insides spasmed and she licked her lips at the sight of a thick, flushed cock straining out from beneath the bottom of his shirt.  
  
Straining for her.  
  
Stepping again to the edge of the desk, Chakotay grabbed her hips with both hands and pushed that delicious cock through slippery folds, stretching her, filling her more and more until he was buried to the hilt.  
  
She moaned, clenching her muscles around his girth as her body made space for him to fit. The slight upward crook of him slid just right inside her so that even the smallest movement made colors flash across her vision. They rasped against each other, acclimating to the feel of being joined at the hip.

Leaning forward, she slid the vest from his shoulders and inverted the shirt over his head. She allowed herself one brief moment to memorize the tattoo on his chest—three double-banded circles intersecting a few centimeters above his heart.

Then she bit into the thick muscle of his shoulder.

Chakotay roared with pain. He slammed her back against the table, gritting his teeth and wrapping his hand around her throat. “So this is how you want to play it, Kathryn?”  
  
“I like playing rough.”  
  
“Then rough is what you’re gonna get,” he said, his voice full of gravel, before he plowed into her.

For the first few thrusts, she loved it—his size, his speed, the power rippling through his entire body, the way he met her force with equal verve like no one else ever could, the almost painful pleasure of him bearing down over and over. But she could tell he was already losing himself, already giving into the reptilian brain impulse to fuck, to finish, and that just wouldn’t do.  
  
Pushing up on her hands, she slid back from the edge just far enough to get the heels of her feet on the sizable desk. Chakotay climbed up after her, desperate to complete his task, but she hooked one foot around his ankle and flipped him. Before he’d even had a chance to react, Kathryn pulled her knife and held it to his throat.  
  
“Nobody fucks me unless I tell them to.”  
  
For the first time since she’d met him, Chakotay grinned, dimples emerging in both of his cheeks.  
  
The sound of a charging disruptor cut through the room. “Put the knife down, now, asshole,” the guard ordered.  
  
Confused, Kathryn glanced down to find a thin shank in his hand. It was poised to sink between two very important ribs in her side.  
  
She laughed. He must have hidden that in a _very_ intimate place. “You’re committed, I’ll give you that. But you know, it’ll take one hell of a thrust to get that little thing through my body armor. The waist panel may move like fabric, but I assure you, you’ll be choking on your own blood before your blade reaches my heart.”  
  
“You’d be surprised at how much thrust I can conjure.” He let the double entendre set for a moment before adding, “But I have no intention of killing you.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“No. I need your help, remember? Besides, you’re too much fun.” Slowly, he dragged the tip of the blade down her body, past her armor and the belt holding it in place, past the careful seams of her bustier. He traced a thin, shallow line into the skin of her hip, her leg, until he reached the middle of her thigh.  
  
There, he slashed a cut.  
  
Kathryn hissed, but a grin spread across her face at the thrilling, stinging pain. “I think I’m going to like you.”

She trailed her own blade over his collarbone and down his chest, tiny beads of red marking the path. When his muscles betrayed a particularly sensitive spot just above his abdomen, she dug the tip of her knife into the skin and sliced. The cut instantly welled up with blood.  
  
Chakotay flinched, groaned. His hips bucked and his cock brushed her ass. He dropped the shank and combed his fingers into her hair, pulling her face close to his. His voice was strained, wanting. “If I don’t get to fuck you tonight, then you’d better fuck me.”  
  
“Or what?”  
  
“No deal.”  
  
She laughed, a rich, full laugh that came so rarely it surprised even Marta when it happened. Kathryn straightened, sheathed her knife, and let her hands fall to Chakotay’s ribs. Her fingers lazily swirled the blood from his cut like fingerpaint on the canvas of his skin. “I don’t believe you for a second, but—“ she lifted her hips, grabbed Chakotay’s engorged cock, and sank down on him, pleased to see his eyes rolling back into his head— “that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Taking both of his wrists, she stretched his arms over his head and trapped them against the desktop. For the first time, she noticed the Terran rebel symbol—a reclamation of the Earth image that marked the clothes of most Terran slaves—inked into the skin of his left forearm.

As she leaned over and began to ride him, Kathryn wondered if they’d burn it off his cold, dead body once they learned what he’d done.

* * *

“So what do you think?” Kathryn asked Marta after the rebel captain had been returned to his ship. She’d wasted no time bringing Marta into the plan, donning a robe from her private head and summoning her first mate the moment Chakotay was gone.

Marta perched on the edge of Kathryn’s desk, one booted foot pulled onto the surface while the other remained firmly on the floor. She toyed with a dagger as she spoke. “Well, I don’t blame you for letting the man live.” Her lips pulled into a sharp smile. “I mean, just look at him. I have to say, Kate, I’m a little jealous. Would you mind terribly if I had a taste?”  
  
Kathryn returned the smile with ease. “As a matter of fact, I would.”  
  
“Selfish bitch.”  
  
“I share Tom with you, don’t I?”  
  
“Mm, but this... Captain Chakotay... there is something different about him, isn’t there? Something you find very hard to resist.”  
  
“How can you tell?”  
  
Marta laughed, her green eyes meeting Kathryn’s. “We’ve known each other our whole lives. I can tell. What is it that makes him so special?”  
  
“He isn’t intimidated by me.”  
  
“I’m not intimidated by you.”

“Of course you’re not,” Kathryn said. “This is different. He’s a mark.”  
  
“Ah. Well, it’s going to be a real shame when you have to kill him.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose it will. Which brings us to the cloaking device, and the mission.”  
  
Marta sheathed the dagger inside her boot and secured it. “You know I have no love for the intendant.” Pulling up her other leg, she spun around on the desk, facing Kathryn directly. “And the chance to possess the only device in this entire universe that could make our ship undetectable—“ She shuddered. “It’s exhilarating. Think of what we could do with something like that.”  
  
Kathryn grinned, leaning forward. “We’d finally be free.”  
  
Marta slid across the desk and dangled her feet on either side of Kathryn’s legs. “No Alliance, no Klingons—“  
  
Kathryn ran both hands along Marta’s thighs. “No limits to how far we could go.”  
  
Marta lowered herself onto Kathryn’s lap and wrapped her arms around Kathryn’s neck, pulling her close. “It’s what we always dreamed of.”  
  
Kathryn was still buzzing from the meeting with Chakotay. She hadn’t gotten off with him a second time, had focused single-mindedly on turning his weakness for sex into a weakness for her, and her body was demanding pay-off. She could swear the smell of their tryst lingered in the room. It mixed with Marta’s perfume, making her thighs ache and her insides pulse.

The day was a little more than halfway done, but Kathryn couldn’t have gone back to work if she tried.

She pounced, pressing her lips to Marta’s with a move so bruising it made her teeth vibrate. She pushed her tongue into Marta’s mouth, rolling and sweeping it in perfect sync with the sway of the other woman’s hips. Kathryn moaned, the sound muffled by the kiss.  
  
Grasping the armrests of the chair, Marta shifted herself backwards, breaking the kiss as she pulled away and sank to her knees. She slid a hand beneath Kathryn’s robe and pushed it aside. “Have you taken your morning-after supplement?”  
  
“Not yet.” Kathryn’s thigh twitched as Marta’s fingers brushed over her skin. “I haven’t forgotten. I simply wanted to bring you into the loop as quickly as possible.”  
  
“And I appreciate that very much. But we mustn't overlook your health.” Marta reached for a drawer at the bottom of Kathryn’s desk, sliding it open and retrieving a single-use injector vial. Pressing the tip to Kathryn’s thigh, she tapped a button that sent a thin needle deep into the muscle tissue beneath.  
  
Kathryn resisted the urge to flinch.  
  
“You know,” Marta said, setting aside the spent vial and kissing the sore spot where the injection had gone, “there’s more than one way to let me taste your new beau.” She leaned forward, her breath warming Kathryn’s wet pussy. Then, she pulled back.  
  
Kathryn cursed at the sudden cold.  
  
Marta smirked. “But I wouldn’t want to defy my captain’s orders.”  
  
Kathryn hated how her voice trembled, even in front of the only person alive she came close to trusting. Still she demanded, “If you don’t eat me out right now, I swear to Kahless I will slit your throat and make Harry Kim my new first mate.”  
  
With a low chuckle, Marta leaned forward and did exactly as she was asked.

Kathryn cried out the moment Marta’s tongue touched her flesh. She scooted forward and grabbed Marta’s hair.

Marta hummed. Her tongue slithered in and out and around, alternating between lapping up the mingled fluids inside Kathryn’s body and curling over her clitoris. She sucked the seed of their enemy right out while her fingers massaged the surrounding flesh. Then, dragging her tongue to Kathryn’s clit, Marta pushed two fingers inside Kathryn’s body and slid them back and forth against her inner wall.

Kathryn convulsed, nearly falling out of her chair. The stimulation was almost more than she could bear, but she embraced it. Soon, she was flying apart in Marta’s hands. A gush of warm fluid rolled down her pussy. The sound her orgasm wrenched from her throat was so loud she was sure everyone on the bridge had heard it.

As Kathryn focused on trying to catch her breath, Marta retrieved a small towel from a desk drawer and began to clean them both up. “You made a mess, Kate.”

“I blame you,” Kathryn rasped.

Marta tossed the towel on the desk and leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to Kathryn’s mouth. “You’re welcome.”

Kathryn put a hand behind Marta’s head before she could back away. “Come to my quarters tonight,” she whispered.

Marta smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Kathryn dragged Marta close and kissed her.

When Kathryn finally let go, Marta stood and stretched out her legs. “Would you like me to give the rebels our answer?”

Kathryn pushed herself to her feet. “No. Let them sweat for a little while. I got the impression during Captain Chakotay’s initial hail that his crew may not support his decision to contact me. I’d like to see if their loyalty to him is stronger than their doubts. We’ll contact them in the morning and invite Chakotay to join us for a strategy meeting.”

“I like it.” Marta ran a thumb along Kathryn’s lip, making Kathryn shudder. “Go shower. I’ll get the crew on task prepping the ship for visitors. Anyone who isn’t done by the time we contact the rebels will spend the rest of tomorrow scrubbing plasma manifolds by hand.”

“See to it.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Kathryn’s top-ranking bridge crew members gathered in her office to meet with the rebels. Instead of replacing the items Chakotay had swept off her desk, she set them aside so she could re-appropriate the built-in computer for planning their strategy. A map of the Sol sector showed on the display, holographic image generators casting a three-dimensional version of the map into the air above the desk.

As Marta and Tom joked and flirted quietly in the corner, Harry studied the map. Deep-set, downturned eyes the color of syrup flicked over the images as his nimble fingers twisted, dragged, and cinched at the image hovering in the air. The young man was an overachiever—sharp, restless, ambitious. That was what caught Kathryn’s attention six years prior when she had plucked him out of a detention camp and given him a place on her ship, and it made him one of the most valuable members of her crew.

“What do you see?” she asked, resting her hip on the desk beside him.

“A goddamn mess,” he said, pinching his fingers to zoom out on the map. Running a hand through his sleek, mid-length black hair, he added, “Everyone’s taking the news of Regent Worf’s capture as an excuse to make a move, and most of those moves are bad ones.” His eyes shifted to hers. “I hope we’re not about to make the same mistake.”

Kathryn ticked an eyebrow. “Don’t you trust me?”

“You’re not the one I’m worried about.”

As if summoned by Harry’s words, the doors to Kathryn’s office slid open and a guard escorted the resistance captain into the room.  
  
“Ah, Captain Chakotay,” Kathryn said, turning to greet her guest.

Chakotay paused in the doorway, giving her a slight nod. “Captain Janeway. Allow me to introduce my first officer.” At that, he stepped aside.  
  
Behind him stood a slender woman with short chocolate brown hair and Klingon ridges arching over her eyebrows, one after another after another all the way up to her hairline. The ridges were softer than a full-blooded Klingon’s would have been. In fact, most of her features spoke strongly of the Terran slave who had sired her—skin that looked like coffee with too much cream, cheekbones even sharper than her mother’s but a chin that was far too finely pointed, silky hair that was only slightly kinky where her mother’s hair held thick, zig-zagging curls.  
  
“B’Elanna, daughter of Miral.”  
  
The woman lifted her sharp chin in defiance as she settled those familiar brown eyes on Kathryn’s face. “Hello, Captain Janeway.”  
  
For perhaps the third time in her life, Kathryn was genuinely surprised. “I didn’t expect I’d be seeing you again.”  
  
B’Elanna smirked as she strode into the room, a stoic-looking security guard with olive skin and black hair in tow. “Oh, did my mother tell you I was dead?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, she did.”  
  
“And you believed her?”  
  
“I had no reason not to.”  
  
B’Elanna crossed her arms. “Other than the fact that she’s a murderer, a liar, and a tyrant.”  
  
“I suppose.”  
  
“Are you always this dense about the people whose shit stains your nose?”  
  
Kathryn gave a sharp smile. “Oh, you sweet, spoiled child. You have no idea the kind of sacrifice it takes for a Terran to survive under the Alliance’s boot.”  
  
“Don’t you dare call me a child,” B’Elanna hissed, “you filthy sympathizing—“  
  
But Kathryn had no patience for the girl’s temper tantrum. “The things I’ve done to keep this handful of Terrans out of Alliance labor camps would make even your toes curl.” She stalked towards the intendant’s daughter. “But I must say, I am quite impressed at how you’ve done for yourself since your supposed death. How the hell did you ever get the resistance to trust someone like you?”  
  
B’Elanna bared her square, Terran teeth. “I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”  
  
“Oh? And that was?”  
  
“I’d tell them everything I knew about my bitch of a mother, her advisors, her technology, her strategy, her movements... all of it.”  
  
“I see,” Kathryn said. “And what’s in it for you?”  
  
“When the opportunity comes, I get to rip out her tongue and strangle her to death with it.”  
  
Kathryn’s lips twitched with amusement. “Such burning hatred,” she murmured. “But why? True, many of the Klingons saw only a mongrel when they looked at you, but Intendant Miral was more than generous to her only surviving child. You could have been her successor if you’d wanted to be. Why throw away all of that power? Why plan to kill her as a ghost, a traitor, rather than a prospector for her position?”  
  
B’Elanna grit her teeth. “Because she tortured and murdered my Terran father for giving information to a resistance fighter, and even then she couldn’t tell the difference between what she was expected to do and what she wanted to do. If my mother ever had a soul, it was cut out by the Alliance long ago. So fuck her, fuck her position, and fuck the Alliance. They can all burn.”  
  
Kathryn grinned. “Alright then. Let’s talk strategy, shall we?”  
  
Taking a reader from a pocket inside his vest, Chakotay tapped the screen to upload his intel to Kathryn’s computer console. The holographic display shifted to an image of a small, nondescript ship. “This is the vessel Intendant Miral will be using for transport.”  
  
Kathryn frowned. “I’ve never seen this one before.”  
  
“She just bought it last week,” B’Elanna said. “Had Grathon Tolar pick it up from an Orion merchant.”  
  
“Who?” Tom asked.  
  
“Sniveling weasel of a man,” Kathryn said. “Unimportant.”  
  
“No,” Tom said, “I mean who was the merchant?”  
  
“Why the fuck does it matter?” Harry asked.  
  
Tom shrugged. “I might know him. Could be helpful to get better specs on that corvette.”  
  
“Nimobi-Taras,” B’Elanna said.  
  
“Ring any bells?” Chakotay asked.  
  
Tom sucked his teeth, chuckled, and nodded. “Yeah, I know him.”  
  
“Think he’d be willing to trade info on that ship for something we have?” Marta asked.  
  
“We didn’t part on the best terms last time I saw him,” Tom said, “but I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
“Good,” Kathryn said. “Send him a message right away. When he responds, I want to know.”  
  
“Aye, Captain.” Tom spun on a heel and left the room.  
  
Kathryn returned to the holographic display and the rebel captain sharing it. “In the meantime, what do we know about that ship?”  
  
“It’s small, maneuverable, and armed to the teeth,” Chakotay said. “She’ll be hard to track down, and even harder to kill.”  
  
“I’d expect nothing less of the intendant,” Kathryn said.  
  
“Good thing we have the element of surprise,” Marta said.  
  
Chakotay frowned. “If B’Elanna could track you down, I have no doubt Intendant Miral will be able to see you coming.”  
  
Harry grinned. “There are a few tricks she still doesn’t know.”

The rebels didn’t look convinced, but Kathryn didn’t need their approval—only their cooperation. “I suggest we wait to continue this discussion until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” She turned to Chakotay. “I’ll contact you when we hear back from the merchant.”

”Don’t you think he’ll report you to the intendant?” Chakotay asked.

She smiled. “I can be _very_ persuasive.”

* * *

After hours of haggling with the Orion merchant who sold the intendant her ship, Kathryn was finally able to reach an agreement with him that didn’t make her want to peel the old man’s wrinkly green skin off. With the rebuilt corvette’s schematics in-hand, she reconvened the meeting.  
  
“The sensor array,” Tom said as he spun the holographic diagram of Intendant Miral’s ship with his fingers. “It’s blind beneath the starboard side wing.”  
  
“How do you figure?” Chakotay asked.  
  
“When the ship was salvaged, that whole section had been blown open by a torpedo. The repair team sealed up the breach well enough to hold, but the curve of that plating is different from the original hull. Sensors on that side will bounce off at the wrong angle.”  
  
“So what?” Harry said. “It’s not a large enough blind spot to hide _Ching Shih_. Hell, we could barely fit the rebel’s raider in there. And how would they get into position without being noticed?”  
  
Tom turned on the man. “I don’t know, smart guy. I’m not the strategist here. I’m just telling everyone what I see.”  
  
Harry took a step towards Tom, eyes slitted and face flushed. “Yeah? Well maybe if you’d use your brain once in a while, we wouldn’t waste so much time listening to you get off to the sound of your own voice.”  
  
“Gentlemen,” Kathryn warned.  
  
Tom glanced at Harry’s hips, then dragged his gaze up to the younger man’s eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh, I’m not nearly the only one who gets excited by the sound of my voice, Bos’n.”  
  
“Enough!” Kathryn shouted.  
  
Both men stopped and looked to their captain, Harry with his mouth open and Tom with that wiley look still drawn on his face.

“Save the foreplay for later. We have a job to plan. Now, before we can even think about how to sneak up on the intendant, we need to find a way to track her.”

“Same way I tracked _Ching Shih_ ,” B’Elanna said. “I hack into her spy network.”  
  
Marta scoffed. “Child’s play. Surely the intendant isn’t foolish enough to let anyone know what she’s up to—even her own spies.”  
  
B’Elanna sneered. “I found you pretty easily.”  
  
“We weren’t hiding, dear,” Marta said. “Besides, the intendant requires us to check in with her network regularly. You know, us being Terrans and all. If we slip the leash for too long, she’ll hunt us down and hang us by our toes in a Klingon prison.”  
  
“Do you have any better ideas?” B’Elanna asked.  
  
“The starboard nacelle,” Harry said. “It’s running dirty.”  
  
Kathryn crossed her arms. “Explain.”  
  
He spread his fingers apart, zooming in on a section of the holographic diagram. “Well, Tom was right about one thing. When they rebuilt the ship, they didn’t have exactly the right parts. That curve he spotted under the starboard wing? It’s from cooling tubes that are slightly too big. They do the job, but not as well as correctly-sized tubes would. So the engine on that side runs hotter than the port side nacelle. And that means it has to burn through more fuel to keep up.” He pinched his fingers together, returning the image to a whole-ship display. “So we look for ships running dirty and narrow the options down from there.”  
  
Kathryn allowed herself a small smile at the young man. “Good eye, Mister Kim.”  
  
Harry smiled back.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Tom muttered.  
  
Kathryn sighed, pinching her nose between two fingers.

“Seriously, Paris? You can’t let me have one moment? What the fuck is your problem?”  
  
Marta retrieved one of the many knives she kept on her person and sent it sailing through the air between the two men’s heads. It lodged in the wall behind them. “Are you two goddamn kidding me right now? You can’t even hold it together for one strategy meeting?”  
  
“Go,” Kathryn said.  
  
“What?” Harry asked.  
  
Kathryn dropped both hands to her hips. “You heard me. For weeks, you’ve both been driving me crazy with your bickering, your flirting, your obsession with getting each other’s notice. I need you both to have your heads in this mission. So just fuck already.”

Harry looked horrified. “Right now?”  
  
“Did I stutter? Yes, right now. Neither one of you is any good to me until you get this out of your system. You have the rest of tonight to work things out. Tomorrow, we find the intendant. Do I make myself clear?”  
  
Tom grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” Wrapping his arms around Harry, he leaned into Harry’s ear and murmured, “Come on gorgeous. Captain’s orders.”  
  
Harry wrenched himself from Tom’s grip and stormed out of the room.  
  
Without hesitation, Tom followed the other man into the corridor.  
  
Kathryn sighed as the door slid shut behind them. “There goes my best lover.”  
  
B’Elanna snorted. “Which one?”  
  
“My helmsman, Tom Paris.”  
  
“That boy is your best?” Chakotay asked.  
  
“Oh, he’s _very_ good,” Marta said. She turned to Kathryn. “Think they’d let me watch?”  
  
“Children,” Chakotay muttered.  
  
“Leave them be,” Kathryn said. “Those two have been circling each other for long enough. It’s high time they admitted their attraction.”  
  
Marta shrugged. “Fine. I’ll find someone else to entertain me.” She turned to B’Elanna. “Care to join me, rebel? I can make both your pussies quiver at once, if you like.”  
  
“Get fucked in Gre’thor,” B’Elanna growled in _Hol chu’_.  
  
“Just as well. I have an Orion merchant to pay off anyway.” Marta winked at Kathryn and Chakotay. “Have a good night.” And with that, she was gone.  
  
Kathryn turned on Chakotay, a bit incredulous at his remark. “Children?”  
  
“You heard me,” he said.  
  
“And what, Captain Chakotay, do you think separates the children from the adults?”  
  
Chakotay advanced on Kathryn, stopping only when his lips brushed the side of her face. “Passion.”  
  
“Ridiculous,” B’Elanna muttered. In a louder tone, she announced, “I’m going back to the ship. Mike, make sure this witch doesn’t kill our captain while he’s busy thinking with his cock.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” came the rebel guard’s reply.  
  
Kathryn didn’t even watch the woman go, eyes fixed on the man before her. ”Murphy,” she said to her own guard, “set up a direct transport to my quarters.”  
  
Seconds later, the world around them dissolved. Then the four of them were standing in the middle of her living area.  
  
She barely had time to breathe before Chakotay took her lips with his, sucking on her bottom lip as his fingers combed into her hair. He tipped her head back, deepening the kiss.  
  
When his lips parted on a breath, Kathryn pushed her tongue into his mouth.  
  
His hands didn’t wonder down to grasp at her ass, didn’t snake around to cop a feel of her breasts. He didn’t grab her hair or try to exert power over her in any way. Instead, he simply supported her head and stroked her face with his thumbs as he kissed her.  
  
Part of her wanted to revolt from the tenderness of the touch, but Kahless, did he feel good. So she hugged him closer and rolled her hips against his hard cock over and over until they were both trembling and gasping for air.  
  
Taking a moment apart to catch their breath, Kathryn used the space to remove Chakotay’s vest and fling his shirt across the room. With gentle fingers, she traced the lines of his tattoo, entranced by the design.

He snatched her wrist in a painful grip and forced her hand away. A pained look crossed his face, but it was gone so quickly she almost wondered if she’d been mistaken. When he pulled her into a fervent kiss, her confusion over his strange reaction melted away entirely.

Making quick work of his holster and the fastenings of his pants, she inched the clothing down just enough to reach him. She wrapped his cock in a tight grip and pumped while, with her free hand, she probed for that hidden shank.

“I didn’t bring it this time,” he rasped.

“No more weapons?”

“No more weapons,” he confirmed.

For whatever reason, she believed him. As she slid every remaining piece of fabric down his strong legs, she had the impulse to swallow him—to take long drags on his cock like a fat cigar. Although she refused to kneel for anyone she didn’t have to, she couldn’t help but steal a taste. She traced her tongue along the length of him and lapped up the beads of precum on the tip before returning to her full stature.

A strange, dangerous need swelled inside her.

It wasn’t just sex she craved, nor was it power. She wanted skin on skin, a full range of sensation. She wanted to press her chest against his and feel their hearts beat in tandem. Rare was the lover for whom she would remove her armor, especially when that lover was also an enemy.  
  
With Chakotay, the risk felt thrilling.  
  
Kathryn stepped back several paces. Chakotay frowned, unsure of her intentions until she began undoing the clasps of her belt. She did not smile. It wasn’t a game anymore. “Murphy, out.”  
  
“Ma’am?” her guard asked.  
  
“I said, _out_.”  
  
“You, too, Mike,” Chakotay said. “In the hall.”  
  
Both guards hesitated for a moment before Chakotay’s man said, “Yes, sir.” They left the room together.  
  
With a firm tug, the magnetic clasps holding Kathryn’s armor together at the center popped open. She let the whole contraption fall to the deck around her feet. Moving to a dress form that stood beside her closet, she set aside the high-collared shoulder armor that had protected her from more cutthroats and disruptor blasts than she could count.

“Come,” she said and advanced to the bed.

Chakotay joined her there, reaching from behind to pause her fumbling fingers over a hook at the top of her bustier. “Let me.”  
  
She dropped her hands.  
  
As he undid the garment, his lips found their way to her neck. He sucked her skin between his teeth.

Hesitantly, Kathryn tipped her head to the side, allowing him better access. She couldn’t help tensing a little as his mouth moved towards a thick scar on her neck.

When his lips found the scar, he paused and pulled away.

“Assassination attempt,” she said before he could ask. “The man was dead before he could even finish the job.”

He hummed and lowered his mouth back to the scar, kissing it over and over, sucking until it tingled. He made quick work of her bustier, sliding hook after hook out of place until the garment fell open. He tossed it aside. Skin exposed, he skimmed her body from hips to breasts, weighed each orb in hand, and massaged them deeply.

Kathryn gasped at the dull pain but pressed into his touch, nipples hard against his pliant palms. After a minute, she took his hands and moved them to the waistband of her leggings.

Following her direction, Chakotay dragged her pants from waist to hips, then slipped his hands inside. He slid two fingers between her folds, circling carefully over her clitoris, while another finger dipped into the wet heat at her center. Similar to the day before, he used a knee to part her legs and press his thigh in between, but this time it was merely for support.

And she needed it.  
  
Soon enough, her legs were buckling beneath her as she writhed against the man who seemed capable of tearing her apart with the slightest touch. She howled, the first orgasm rolling through her like a battle maneuver.  
  
The moment she was able to stand on her own two feet again, Kathryn whirled and dragged Chakotay’s lips to hers. Suddenly, nothing seemed to be enough. It was as if he had lit a fire in a dry forest, and she was engulfed in flame. She wanted to kiss, lick, bite, and devour every last part of him. She wanted to feel him throbbing in her every muscle and vein. She couldn’t get out of her clothes fast enough, couldn’t scramble onto the bed quick enough, couldn’t get him inside of her soon enough.  
  
“Fuck me,” she said, yet no position sent him deep enough. It wasn’t depth she needed. It was skin against skin.  
  
So eventually they sat, her on top of him, clinging to each other as sweat dripped down their bare bodies from the effort, grinding and rocking and swaying until they had both spent themselves completely.  
  
After, as they laid in her bed, Kathryn asked, “So that’s what you meant by ‘passion?’”  
  
“Of a kind. It doesn’t have to be sexual. It just means that when you do something, you give yourself to it completely.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It is. But it’s all that makes anything worth doing.”

She frowned. Her own life experiences had taught her a different lesson, and what she knew of Chakotay’s past sounded even worse than hers. “Where in this abominable universe did you learn that?”  
  
“I didn’t. I discovered it deep inside of me, waiting for me to tap into its power.”  
  
Kathryn propped herself on an elbow, studying her strange bedfellow. “You just... found this passion within yourself one day.”  
  
He stared at the ceiling. “I had help.”  
  
There was a story behind his words—a painful one. Deep in some silly, foolish part of her, she wanted to ask for it. With the mission starting in just a few hours, she’d probably never get another opportunity before she had to kill him. But that voice was one she had learned long ago not to obey. She cleared her throat and sat up. “Well, thank you for the demonstration. It was most... illuminating.”  
  
His dark eyes found hers, black in the low light. For a moment, he simply watched her and made no move to leave. Just as she started to think he hadn’t caught her hint, however, he nodded and stood.  
  
Within minutes, he was gone.

* * *

Tom and Harry were late, the fuckers.  
  
It wasn’t exactly unexpected. Kathryn remembered being young and blindsided by erotic energy. In their younger years, that had been her and Marta. But that was a long time ago. Since then, she had learned how to control herself and prioritize. Human nature was what it was, and sex was part of that nature, but carnal needs should never be allowed to overshadow those higher forms of lust.  
  
Greed. Ambition. Ferocity. Prerogative.  
  
Kathryn glanced once more at the time and sighed. “Somebody page those lechers to the bridge... _now_.”  
  
“Aye, Captain,” said the opsmate.  
  
A few minutes later, the lift door slid open. Kathryn twisted her chair around to see both men stride into the room, neither one looking the least bit apologetic. Their skin was flushed, clothes disheveled, and hair a mess. Tom licked at the corner of his mouth, then wiped it with the back of a hand. His other hand clung tightly to Harry, their fingers woven together like two teenagers in love.  
  
It was repulsive.  
  
The scrape of a knife being drawn sounded as Marta stalked towards them. She pointed the blade at Tom’s throat. “You’re late.”  
  
Tom gave an idiotic grin. “Captain Janeway told us to get the sex out of our systems. Well, we got on the lift this morning and realized we were still too distracted to work.”  
  
Harry pulled Tom behind him and stepped up to the tip of Marta’s knife. “We’re here now, Quartermaster, and we’re ready to focus on the mission.”  
  
Marta looked to the captain, lifting her brow in a question.  
  
Kathryn glared at the men. “This only happens once. The next time you’re late, I’ll put you both out an airlock. Is that understood?”  
  
“Aye, Captain,” they replied in unison, their expressions still foolishly euphoric.  
  
Kahless, they were disgusting.  
  
Marta sheathed her blade in one of the twin holsters strapped to her wrists. “Take your stations.”  
  
With Harry in place at ops and Tom at the helm, everyone was finally ready to get underway.  
  
“Bos’n,” Kathryn said, “open a comm channel to _Valjean_.”

“Channel open.”  
  
Chakotay’s image filled the viewscreen. “Captain Janeway,” he said. “We have a fix on Intendant Miral’s position, and have projected her most likely course. We think she’s headed toward the 70 Ophiuchi binary star system.”  
  
“Makes sense,” Kathryn said. “It’s uninhabited, remote... a perfect place to make a backdoor deal. Unfortunately for us, that means less places to hide as we approach. Bos’n Kim has a few tricks up his sleeve to help us slip past sensors, but the closer we get, the more likely it is we’ll be detected.”  
  
“We’re ready to fight if we have to.”  
  
“Of course. But I’d like to forestall that as long as possible. I’ll put my cartographers on the task of finding us places to hide.”  
  
“I’d rather not delay our departure.”  
  
Kathryn smirked. “Now, who said anything about delay? To avoid detection, both our ships will have to reduce our power output as much as possible. We’ll be flying at low warp, giving my people plenty of time to do what they need to do. This is why you came to me, isn’t it?”  
  
Chakotay didn’t seem terribly pleased with her plan, but he didn’t fight her. “Fine. Let me know what you find. We’ll follow your lead. Chakotay out.”  
  
The comm dropped and the image on the screen blinked out.  
  
“So nervous,” Marta said. “I can’t imagine why on Earth he doesn’t trust us.”  
  
Kathryn chuckled. “Nor can I. Reduce power to tactical systems and maintain only basic defensive scans. Bos’n, forward Captain Chakotay’s data to cartography, then cut power to non-essential systems and keep us out of sight. Helm, set a course for the 70 Ophiuchi system, warp two.” She paused for a moment, giving _Valjean_ time to match _Ching Shih’s_ configurations and course. Then she licked her lips and said, “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want the Harry/Tom smut that Kathryn didn’t see? Be sure to read the companion piece, “Things that are deadly,” which is posted as part two of this series.


	4. Chapter 4

Although it wasn’t what the cartographers expected to find, the course Tom plotted for _Ching Shih_ and _Valjean_ happened to pass right by several massive pieces of debris. They’d been part of a Terran space station once—either that or a station-sized ship—though _Ching Shih’s_  database couldn’t identify where they’d come from. Most likely, the Alliance had seen fit to purge such information from their non-classified databases long ago. Regardless, one particularly large chunk was enough to hide both ships.

 _Long live the empire_ , Kathryn thought sardonically as Tom tucked her ship safely inside. _Valjean_ followed suit.  
  
A coordinated effort between the two ships sent their mass of debris into a faster drift, hurtling across the last of the distance between them and their target. Then Kathryn ordered both crews to standby for shadow mode.  
  
But there was one thing to be done first.  
  
“What is it?” Chakotay said in answer to her hail.  
  
“You won’t like it,” Kathryn warned.  
  
“Try me.”  
  
She set both hands on her hips. “How much do you trust that Klingon you call your first officer?”  
  
“I trust B’Elanna with my life.”  
  
“Good, because from this point onward, we’re playing dead. To the target’s sensors, we need to look like part of the debris, which means we cannot pass any signals between our two ships. If we do, we risk discovery. Once we reveal ourselves, we won’t have time to exchange data.”

“But you have a solution.”

“I do. The way I see it, you have two options. Either you send the information you promised now, before we cut power, or you will have to carry out the rest of your mission aboard _Ching Shih_.”  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” B’Elanna shouted from off-screen.  
  
“She’s right,” Chakotay snapped, silencing his first. He nodded towards the screen. “I’ll signal you when I’m ready for transport.”  
  
“Don’t take long,” Kathryn purred, half seduction and half threat. She slashed her fingers through the air and the comm signal dropped.

* * *

Once the rebel captain was on board, Kathryn ordered both ships to go dark. She excused one of her ops support workers to give Chakotay a place to sit and a console to enter his data into when the moment arrived. The rest of the trip was nothing but two hours of empty time. Even so, Kathryn never left her seat on the bridge.  
  
It was a relief when Harry announced, “The intendant’s ship has just entered sensor range.”  
  
“Run passive bioscans for Klingon and Trill lifesigns,” Kathryn ordered, swiveling in her chair to look at him. “I want to know where everyone is.”  
  
“Aye, Captain.” A few seconds of silence passed before Harry said, “I’m detecting about twenty Klingon lifesigns. All of them are aboard the intendant’s corvette.”  
  
“And the Trill woman?”  
  
He nodded. “She’s on the corvette, too.”  
  
Kathryn looked to Chakotay. “And where, Captain, is my cloaking device?”  
  
He hesitated for the briefest of moments, pressing those full lips into a thin line before nodding and taking a reader from inside his vest. He docked it on the console, synced it to _Ching Shih’s_ system, and began searching for the package. “It’s still on Ezri’s ship,” he said, “hidden behind a dampening field so the Klingons can’t see it. We’ll have to overload her systems to drop the field before transporting it out.”  
  
“That should be easy enough.”  
  
“Uh, Captain?” Harry said. “The intendant’s ship is scanning us.”  
  
“Looks like they noticed our sensors,” Marta said.  
  
Kathryn swung forward and locked her chair into place. “Then it’s time we pay respects to our employer. QM, fire up our tactical systems and blow the debris.”  
  
The smile in Marta’s voice was unmistakable. “Aye, Captain.”  
  
A series of deep _whoomp-whoomp-whoomps_  rumbled below the deck as _Ching Shih_  fired a series of torpedoes. They’d been rigged to lodge in multiple strategic locations throughout the twisted piece of Terran rubble. All at once, the charges detonated. The entire ship trembled as she and _Valjean_ broke free from their Trojan horse. There was no going back anymore.  
  
Victory or death.  
  
Almost instantly, the intendant’s ship opened fire. “Evasive maneuvers, Helmsman,” Kathryn said. “Try to put us in between the two ships. I want that cloaking device secure.”  
  
“Aye, Captain.”  
  
“QM, target their shield generators.”  
  
“Not the weapons arrays?” Marta asked.  
  
“Do it.”  
  
She clicked her tongue. “Alright. Target locked.”  
  
“Fire phasers. Wear them down.”  
  
“B’Elanna’s following your lead,” Chakotay said.  
  
Kathryn shot him a sharp smile. “I should hope so. She can’t strangle her mother to death if we vaporize the intendant’s entire ship, now can she?”  
  
His lips curled upward. He must not have expected her to care about B’Elanna’s revenge fantasy. “No, she can’t.”  
  
_Ching Shih_ creaked and quaked under the corvette’s heavy fire. She was an old ship—refurbished and well cared for, but still old. Even so, she was bigger than the intendant’s ship, and she wasn’t alone.  
  
“I’ve got the Trill’s vessel in a tractor beam,” Harry said.  
  
“Thank Kahless,” Tom muttered, inputting a new flight pattern.  
  
“The corvette’s forward shields are failing,” Marta announced.  
  
“Bos’n,” Kathryn said, “I want that Trill in my brig.”  
  
“Aye, Captain.”  
  
“B’Elanna’s transporting the intendant to my ship,” Chakotay said, his tone unsure as if he thought B’Elanna’s initiative might upset Kathryn.  
  
Kathryn waved a hand dismissively towards his station. “Good. Let her take her revenge. Do we have our prisoner?”  
  
“Yes, Captain,” Harry said.  
  
“QM—“  
  
Marta’s voice cut her off. “S _o’wl’chu’ ra’ghuS jat’yln_.”  
  
Snapping off her chair lock, Kathryn spun around in time to see Marta disappear in a transporter beam. She swiveled to Harry and jumped to her feet. “What the fuck is going on?”  
  
Harry’s fingers scrambled over his console. “I... I don’t know. I’m locked out of my controls.”  
  
“So am I,” Chakotay said.  
  
“Me, too,” Tom said. “We’re at a full stop.”

 _Ching Shih_ shuddered.  
  
“Captain,” Harry said, “we just lost our tractor beam.”  
  
“I want to know what in the _goddamn fuck_ is happening right now!” Kathryn yelled.  
  
The ship lurched, then rolled back and forth, throwing Kathryn to the deck.  
  
“That corvette’s firing all she’s got on us and _Valjean_ ,” Harry said.  
  
Kathryn dragged herself to tactical and took Marta’s seat. The console was completely blacked out but for a line of text that read, _My turn_.  
  
“The Trill’s ship just disappeared off sensors, Captain,” Harry said.  
  
She was gone.  
  
There was no time to be angry, no time to process the betrayal, no time to think of vengeance. Victory or death, and Kathryn wasn’t dead yet. “Do we still have our prisoner?”  
  
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten an update from security.”

Suddenly, the weapons-fire stopped. “What happened?”

“Well, then,” Harry said.

“What?” Tom asked.

“The Klingons. I think B’Elanna just beamed them all into space.”

Tom pressed his lips together and nodded as if he was impressed. “I guess that’s one way to do it.”

Kathryn huffed. Revenge fantasy, indeed.

“We can’t hang around here for too long,” Chakotay said.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Tom asked. “I can’t work the helm.”  
  
“Let my people hack your ship’s navigational systems. We’ll get you somewhere you can make repairs.”

“Absolutely not,” Kathryn said. “We are getting our shit together and going after that cloaking device.”  
  
“Kathryn,” Chakotay said. “I know a safe place we can go to regroup.”  
  
“I don’t consider a rebel base to be safe, Captain, and neither should you.”  
  
“It’s not a rebel base. Not exactly.”  
  
She squeezed her hands into fists and pounded them into the unresponsive console, barely denting the thick transparent panel. “I don’t have time for this.”  
  
“It’s our only option,” Chakotay insisted. “That ship is small. Wherever Zelle’s going, she won’t get there quickly. We should restock, get some intel. Then we can go after her.”  
  
Kathryn bit her tongue until the tang of blood filled her mouth. She slumped back into the seat. “Do it.”  
  
Chakotay pulled a disc-shaped device the size of his hand from one of his vest pockets and hurried to the helm. He slapped the device onto Tom’s station and flicked a switch. It blinked dimly and began to hum. Squeezing the hem of one of his shirtsleeves, he said, “B’Elanna, hack  _Ching Shih’s_ navigational controls. Set a course for Vega IX. Maximum warp.”  
  
The woman’s voice crackled over a tiny, hidden comm device. “Aye, Captain.”  
  
Kathryn scowled at her console, the faint, distorted reflection of her face like a wraith mirroring her expression. Vega IX was a ghost town, a former Terran colony that had been bombed to dust by the Alliance when the empire fell. A century later, the planet’s atmosphere was still too toxic to breathe. Only criminals and lowlifes ever entered the system anymore, and they never stayed for long. What could possibly be there?  
  
She barely had time to give the question any thought before _Ching Shih_ jumped to warp, fleeing the scene of her treason. Perhaps it was fitting, Kathryn thought, that they should seek shelter in the Vega system.  
  
They were the lowlife criminals now.

* * *

Kathryn spent the entire day-long trip to Vega IX balls-deep in algorithms, trying to regain control over her ship. It wasn’t until more than halfway there that whatever vile coding Marta left behind finally gave way, allowing the crew to do something more productive than curse at their consoles. Once repairs were underway, Kathryn called Master Gunner Aaron Cavit to take tactical and reclaimed her command chair.  
  
When they arrived at Vega IX, it was as dead as Kathryn remembered. What had she honestly expected to find? Magical space fairies? A wormhole to a better part of the galaxy?

Her patience was thinner than ever. “Care to let me in on your plan, Captain Chakotay?”

“Send out this message,” he said, tapping something into his controls.  
  
Harry’s console trilled and the young man frowned. “Is this Vulcan?”  
  
“Yes, it is.”  
  
“Who the hell are we talking to?” Kathryn asked.

“There’s a small contingent of telepaths here,” Chakotay explained, “living in shelters underground. They’re part of the Vulcan spy network.”  
  
“The Vulcan spy network is real?” Tom asked.  
  
“Of course it is,” Kathryn muttered. “And of course they’d pick this Kahless-forsaken place to hide. But tell me, Chakotay, why should I trust them to help?”  
  
“Because they’re the ones that sent me to you.”

“I thought you were acting against the wishes of the Terran Resistance,” Harry said.

“I am. The spy network feeds information to the resistance from time to time, but they’re an independent organization. Always have been.”  
  
Kathryn studied the rebel captain closely, searching his face, his posture, and his movements for any sign of deceit. He simply gazed back, cold and steady as a rock.  
  
What were her options? Kill Chakotay, take his ship, and betray Intendant Miral to the regent’s people; they’d still slaughter her and her crew for what she’d done. Kill Chakotay and take his ship for herself to begin building her very own pirate fleet; the Alliance would hunt her down. One after another, Kathryn listed every possible course of action and its outcome in her head.  
  
They all ended in death.  
  
She nodded at Harry. “Do it.”  
  
A minute later, Harry announced he’d gotten a text response. “Captain Chakotay and Captain Janeway are invited to transport to the designated coordinates,” he read. “No escorts, no energy-based weapons.”  
  
Kathryn gritted her teeth, mind screaming at her to kill them all, to run, to stay alive. “This had better not be a goddamn trap,” she growled at Chakotay.  
  
“Would you believe me if I said it isn’t?”  
  
“No.” She got to her feet and turned to Harry. “The _Ching Shih_ is yours, Mister Kim. From now on, use your own discretion. If anything goes wrong down there, if that Klingon mongrel decides to turn on you—hell, if you want to abandon me the moment I transport off the ship, I don’t care—you watch over this crew. Do whatever you have to do to survive. Do you understand?”  
  
He nodded once, firmly, and lifted his chin. “Aye, Captain.”  
  
“Send those coordinates to the transporter room. Captain Chakotay.” She jerked her head towards the lift. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Kathryn paced across the cavern where she and Chakotay had been taken, wishing for a bulkhead to drive her fist into or a body to slice into ribbons. The space had been furnished with a simple two-person bed, a rug and lamp for meditation, and a biowaste recycler. Other than that, she was entombed in stone. Their Vulcan chauffeur had said their hosts would meet them over breakfast the next morning.

They’d trapped her in a cave on a toxic planet instead of letting her sleep in her own damn bed. Assholes.  
  
Between the wait and the heavy silence all around them, Kathryn’s mind was spinning. She kept thinking back over her relationship with Marta, racking her brain for clues that could explain Marta’s betrayal. Hadn’t Kathryn given her everything? Hadn’t they been committed to their partnership in all things? Sure, Kathryn outranked her, but only because Intendant Miral had chosen Kathryn to lead. In practice, Kathryn rarely made decisions without consulting Marta first. Was that not enough to satisfy her ambition?

There must have been signs along the the way, but Kathryn had missed them. If only she’d been paying attention. She’d done the exact thing she’d long sworn to herself she would never do—allowed her emotions to overrule her better judgement. No, it was worse than that. She’d allowed her emotions to blind her entirely.

“How could I have been such a goddamn fool?” she muttered.  
  
“You weren’t the only one she fooled,” Chakotay said. “What about the rest of your crew? They didn’t seem to know, either.”

Was Chakotay trying to comfort her?  
  
Kathryn spun on him. “Of course she fooled my crew. She’s been my first mate since the beginning. Why would they question her?”  
  
“Didn’t you?”  
  
She looked away. “No, I didn’t.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because I—“ she cut herself off, refusing to speak the word that came, unwanted, to her lips. Alternate responses came to mind—because she and Marta had grown up together, because they had been best friends and eventually lovers, because Marta had deserved the captaincy just as much as Kathryn—but none of those excuses were good enough. Even the simple truth was a poor excuse, and she should have known better.  
  
She should have known better.  
  
“That’s not your concern,” she finally said, forcing herself to look Chakotay in the eyes.  
  
He searched her face, and she resisted the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. “You love her, don’t you?”  
  
Kathryn clenched her jaw. A dreadful stinging sensation poked at her eyes. She squeezed them shut and turned away, hoping to recall the tears before Chakotay noticed. She ordered herself not to cry, but it wasn’t working. Why, why did she have to break down right in front of a damn rebel?

“Fuck,” she muttered, balling her hands into fists.

“It’s not a bad thing to love someone.”

“Back off.”

“Why? Because you’re crying and you don’t want me to see?”

“I am not—“

“They’re just tears, Kathryn, not white flags.”  
  
She rounded on Chakotay. “You are digging into things that are absolutely none of your business. As if you know anything about my life. As if I owe you an explanation for the relationship I had with Marta. I owe you nothing. Frankly, I regret ever listening to you about that damn cloaking device, but I can’t undo the past. What I can change is the future, so let’s focus on that.”

He crossed his arms. “We won’t get very far if I don’t know what I’m up against. You know why I’ve been so successful in the resistance?”

Kathryn simply stared at him.

“Because I take the time to get to know my allies and my enemies before I make a move. So I ask you again. Do you love her?”

She lifted her chin. “Maybe I did once. But love is weakness, and I refuse to be weak. I will hunt Marta down, and I will kill her with my own hands. I will enjoy watching the light leave her eyes. Then I will take that cloak and become something even greater than I was when she stood at my side, and I will never think about her again.”  
  
“Love doesn’t die nearly as easily as people do,” Chakotay said. “Believe me. I know.”  
  
“It’s not my first time. I did it once, and I’ll do it again.”  
  
“I see,” he said, though the look on his face and the tone in his voice implied that he didn’t actually believe her. “Who else did you lose?”  
  
Kathryn frowned. “Why do you care?”

“Because I want to know.”  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
Chakotay shrugged. “Fine. But you’re not the only one, you know.”  
  
Kathryn crossed her arms. “Oh, really? Who was yours?”  
  
She expected him to give her the same shut-down response she’d given him, but Chakotay surprised her. He looked down at his feet and fidgeted with his hands. When he met her eyes once more, his own were glassy with tears. “My wife, Svetlana, and our two sons.” He swallowed. “Kolopak and Mischa.”  
  
A wife. Children. Kathryn didn’t know what to say. There had been nothing in his file indicating he’d had a family but, then again, the Alliance hadn’t bothered to notice him until he started killing their warriors.  
  
Tears spilled onto his cheeks, and he let them fall as if they weren’t any threat to him at all. “It wasn’t an easy life working in the mines, but we managed to eke some happiness from it. Once word got out about Terran uprising in the Bajoran sector, almost everyone seemed to want in. Sveta and I talked about joining, helping out, but we couldn’t risk our sons lives, not before they were old enough to care for themselves. So we stayed out.

“We thought we would be safe as long as we kept our heads down and our noses clean. But when the Alliance put their foot down, they stomped on all of us. My family—“ He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I couldn’t get home in time to save them.”  
  
Kathryn frowned, trying to make the pieces fit in her head. “So you joined the resistance for... what? Revenge?”  
  
He barked out a mirthless laugh. “Why? What good is revenge? It won’t bring back the dead.”  
  
“Then why? Their foolishness is what brought the Alliance’s wrath down on your family. Why help them after that?”  
  
Chakotay closed the distance between them, his grief quickly turning into anger. “The Alliance took everything from me except for my sister and my own life. They needed the topaline we produced for them on Ganymede, but the mineral has a natural effect of interfering with scanners. It made them paranoid. They would have slaughtered us all if we hadn’t escaped. The resistance gave us a place on their ships. They gave us food, water, clothing, medicine, weapons. They helped us hide. I know you have no respect for the resistance, but they saved us.”  
  
“Seems like the least they could do considering that whole mess was their fault to begin with.”  
  
“ _Their_ fault? You’d rather blame your own people instead of the aliens who marched in with guns and blades to murder us?”  
  
“After two hundred years of killing them, it seems to me like we had it coming. Unlike our ancestors, the Alliance has yet to set off an apocalypse on our homeworld. I’d like to keep it that way.”  
  
Chakotay scoffed, taking a half-step back. “Why am I not surprised you’d think like that? You’ve spent your whole life being a lapdog for our oppressors, and they’ve rewarded you for it. You know, it’s bad enough that you can’t comprehend what life is like for those of us without privilege, but what’s worse is that you can’t even see your own prison.”  
  
Kathryn leaned in, her own anger incensed. “I know what life is like in a work colony. I’ve seen more than you could ever imagine. I also know my place in this universe. But fighting a bear only gets you mauled. You’ll live longer if you learn to pick your battles with a little more discretion.”  
  
“Maybe we’re tired of waiting for an opportunity that will never come. Maybe it’s time we started taking a few risks, making our own opportunities. We’ve suffered long enough.”  
  
“Those may seem like nice sentiments, but in reality the resistance is nothing more than a group of disorganized, self-righteous idiots who throw their own people in front of Alliance weapons just to shake their fists at the injustice of it all. It’s a waste of Terran lives.”  
  
Chakotay’s face was so near to hers that his breath warmed her lips. “Strong words from someone working for the people that have murdered billions of us.”  
  
“I’ve kept a hundred Terrans alive and gainfully employed for more than a decade. Can you say the same?”  
  
“I never had that kind of chance.”

“That’s not my fault.”

His nose brushed hers. “How many Terrans, Vulcans, Andorians, and other non-Alliance species have paid your wages with their blood?”  
  
“Only the ones who break laws. My work never ends with dead children.”  
  
“Are you saying that to provoke me, or because you blame the resistance for the death of someone you loved?”  
  
Her slap landed with an echoing _crack_ before Kathryn even realized what she had done.  
  
Chakotay worked his jaw beneath the red mark she’d left behind. “I told you mine—who I loved and lost. It’s your turn now. Tit for tat.”  
  
Kathryn thrust a finger in his face. “I don’t owe you anything, rebel.” She stormed away and began to pace across the room.  
  
He’d done it. He’d broken the barrier in her that kept the most dangerous memories contained, and suddenly that ever-present voice of hope and curiosity and innocence was everywhere in Kathryn’s head. She pressed her palms to the sides of her face, needing to force the voice back down, but it refused to be imprisoned any longer.  
  
_Tell him,_ said the memory. _Tell him who I was to you._

It was too much, and Kathryn was too tired to resist, so she gave in.

“Her name was Phoebe,” she murmured, resting her back against one wall and watching shadows dance along another. “She was my baby sister, and she was the only person I was sure that I loved.”  
  
“Tell me about her,” Chakotay prodded gently.  
  
“She was wild and untamed, like a horse that refused to be broken. As I’m sure you are aware, my father was a scientist at the intendant’s palace complex in San Francisco, and my mother managed a number of farms in Indiana. We mainly lived in the capital, but we had a second home outside of Bloomington where we stayed sometimes during harvest. In the country, it wasn’t the worst thing for children to act out. But in the capital? I’ve seen the intendant execute people for some of the same things Phoebe did.”

“Like what?”

“Stealing. Getting into fights. Breaking into restricted areas. Blurting out things she shouldn’t have said. Somehow, she stayed out of detention centers—probably because she’d always talk her way out of trouble or slip past the officials. I think the intendant looked at her and saw the indomitable spirit she hoped to cultivate in her own daughter.”

Chakotay’s feet dragged against the stone floor as he shifted his weight. “Sounds like she was a handful.”

“She was.” Kathryn smiled at the memories like a warm sunbeam on her face. “But she was also brilliant and funny and optimistic. And she was fiercely devoted to the people she loved.”

“What happened to her?”

Kathryn’s smile fell, and she looked at the floor. “While Phoebe was away doing a study for university on Mars, she met someone. Fell in love. Eventually she married him even though he was from a working-class family. She gave up her whole life on Earth for him, but she was happy. And then, the resistance broke out.”  
  
The pain squeezed Kathryn’s lungs like a vice. “Marta had been away on a mission for the intendant, and I’d just gotten news that she ran into some fighting near the Badlands and was missing. That’s when the worker’s revolt on Mars happened.

“Thanks to her fool of a husband, Phoebe had become somewhat radical in her beliefs about the Alliance and Terran liberty, so I don’t doubt the reports that she willingly joined in. By the time it was over, there wasn’t even a body left to bury. I went home to see my parents and they’d recycled everything that had to do with her. She was a traitor, and we were expected to act as if she never existed.”

Tears streamed down Kathryn’s face, darkening the stone floor where they fell. It was humiliating. If Chakotay had put a knife in her heart right there, she would have used her dying breath to thank him for ending her misery.

He did no such thing.

“A few weeks later, Marta found her way back to _Ching Shih_ , but she was different. She refused to speak of her capture by the rebels, and I was not allowed to discuss my sister. It was a relief to have Marta back, but—“ She shook her head. “Let’s just say that between Phoebe’s death and Marta’s change, I learned my lesson about rebellion and love.”  
  
Chakotay nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies or your sympathy. You asked, I told.”

For a while, he didn’t say anything. When he did finally speak, his voice was quiet. “I didn’t join the resistance because I believed in the cause. I’d like to believe, but the truth is that you’re right. It’s a losing battle. At least with the resistance, I’ve survived a little longer than I would have on my own. And when I die, my conscience will be clear.”  
  
It made sense, Kathryn supposed, in a pointlessly noble way. She could respect his reasoning. He was certainly not a fool. He was a survivor.  
  
“Which side of the bed do you prefer?” he asked.  
  
She blinked, blindsided both by the odd question and the sudden change of subject. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
“For sleeping,” he clarified.  
  
“I don’t sleep with other people, and I certainly don’t sleep in unfamiliar places.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows. “Paranoid much?”  
  
She crossed her arms. “I like keeping my head attached to my shoulders. You’d be surprised how many people have tried to sever it.”  
  
Chakotay held up his hands. “I promise I won’t behead you in your sleep.”  
  
Kathryn shook her head. “You’re not the only threat here.”  
  
“Okay. What if we sleep in shifts? I watch half the night while you sleep, then we switch.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Kathryn, you need to sleep. We’ll both need clear heads tomorrow if we want to find Marta and the cloak. Let me take first watch. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”  
  
Much as she hated to admit it, Chakotay was right. Kathryn was exhausted, physically and mentally, from the events of the day. Besides, who knew what kind of weak bullshit stimulants those telepaths might have on hand? She ran a hand over her face and nodded.  
  
Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, a different stuffy Vulcan escorted Kathryn and Chakotay to the place where they would meet their hosts. It was a large cavern with a long table running down the center. Four places had been laid out with a vegetarian breakfast as dull as the people who were hosting them.  
  
Kathryn sat, sniffed at her food, and cringed. It wasn’t as if she wanted targ heart or anything like that, but would it kill them to add a little meat?  
  
“I apologize if the food is not to your liking, Captain Janeway,” came a steady male voice.  
  
Kathryn’s head snapped up, hand reflexively reaching for her knife.  
  
The tall, dark-skinned Vulcan ticked an eyebrow. “There is no need to draw your weapon. You are not in danger here.” As he stepped through the doorway, a smaller figure emerged from behind him—a Betazoid woman with warm beige skin and hair as black as her eyes.  
  
“Kathryn,” Chakotay said, “this is Tuvok of the Vulcan spy network.”  
  
The Vulcan bowed his head, then gestured to the woman who had paused beside him to glare at their guests. “May I introduce my associate from Betazed, Miss Veronica Stadi.”  
  
She looked Kathryn up and down. “The intendant’s monster herself.”  
  
Kathryn crossed her arms and glared back. “In the flesh.” The Betazoid’s telepathy reached for her, but she shooed the woman away like a fly. “It’s no use attempting to probe my mind, telepath. I learned long ago how to resist such efforts. Now, if you’d like to probe _other_  things...” She gave Stadi a lascivious smile.  
  
Stadi scrunched her freckled nose and made a disgusted sound, her telepathy dropping away as she took the chair across from Chakotay.  
  
Tuvok followed after, seating himself across from Kathryn. Calculating dark-brown eyes studied her from beneath sharp Vulcan eyebrows. His mouth was partially concealed by a black circular beard, but she was certain that no part of his face would help her determine what emotionless thoughts might lie underneath. What did he see as he looked at her? After a tense moment, he selected a utensil and began to eat.  
  
Chakotay and Stadi did the same.  
  
Kathryn frowned at her food, but eventually hunger won out. Everyone ate in silence.  
  
When the plates were emptied and cleared away, attendants poured each of them a cup of tea.  
  
“Thank you for the food and shelter,” Chakotay said. “It means a lot after what happened. Our mission to retrieve the cloak didn’t go quite as planned.”  
  
“So I am told,” Tuvok said.  
  
“Have you heard anything since the last time we spoke?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, I have.” He slid a reader across the table.  
  
Kathryn snatched the device and held it between herself and Chakotay.  
  
“Approximately twelve hours ago, our network intercepted this message. It was sent from an unregistered ship to a private channel on Bajor and signed, ‘Special Agent Seska.’ As you can see, the sender mentioned securing some desired cargo. This presumably refers to the cloaking device. The sender also expects generous payment for a valuable prisoner they have captured. They request a Bajoran fleet rendezvous with them on Tzenketh four days from now, after which they will travel together to Bajor.”  
  
“Do you know anything about this Agent Seska?” Chakotay asked.

“The name is Bajoran,” Stadi said. “That’s all we know. We suspect your first mate made a deal with Ezri Tigan to get the cloak for herself, but that Ezri double-crossed Miss Zelle for the Bajorans. Everyone knows they want to step out of Cardassia’s shadow and become an independent power.”  
  
“So you think Marta is now a prisoner of this Bajoran agent?” Kathryn asked.  
  
“As far as we can tell, yes.”  
  
She read the transmission over and over again. “Four days.” Glancing up at Chakotay, she said, “If we leave now, we can be there nearly a day before their meeting.”  
  
“You are right,” Tuvok said, “which is why we will all be departing in two hours time.”  
  
Kathryn set the tea down and stood. “Then we’ll return to our ships and make preparations.”  
  
“Not so fast, sympathizer,” Stadi said. “Your crews can handle themselves, but the last thing we need is to lose track of either one of you. You’re riding with us.”  
  
“What?” Chakotay said.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kathryn said, “I’m sure I misheard you, but I could swear you just told me what to do as if you think I work for you.”  
  
Stadi’s lips curled into a sneer. “Oh, you heard me right. We don’t trust you, just like we know you don’t trust us, and we can’t afford any more mistakes from you or your crew.”  
  
Her words landed like a knife in Kathryn’s chest. She wanted to jump over the table and strangle the woman, but she forced the impulse down.  
  
The crack in Kathryn’s mental armor was enough, and Stadi finally forced her way inside.  
  
Memories came rushing forward like floodwaters breaking through a dam. Every moment spent with Marta was drawn to the surface—playing together as children while their parents visited in the sitting room, attending prep school together, getting into adolescent trouble together, exploring the pleasures of sex together, the intendant offering Kathryn a ship and Kathryn immediately requesting Marta be transferred to her command.  
  
“The reports are true, then,” Stadi said aloud. “Janeway and Zelle were close friends and lovers from a young age—“  
  
“Stop,” Kathryn said through gritted teeth, trying to push the woman out of her mind as the worst memories began to surface.  
  
“—until a secret side mission for Intendant Miral took Zelle away from their ship and into—“ she squinted— “the Badlands.”

Every thought and emotion surrounding the incident returned—all the worry, the fear, the shameful desperation to see her partner returned to her side, safe and sound. It was just as fresh and painful as it had been the day Kathryn learned Marta had gone missing. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Who would have thought that a hedonistic monster like you could be capable of such love?”

“Get out,” Kathryn growled, her voice hoarse from the strain.

Chakotay pounded the table and shouted, “ _Enough_!”  
  
His response shocked Stadi just enough for Kathryn to seize the telepath’s mind and cast her out. She leapt across the table, shoving Stadi backwards and pinning her to the floor, her knife held against the woman’s throat. “If you ever try that again, I will cut you from chest to cunt and pull out your innards piece by piece while you watch.”  
  
Stadi wasn’t cowed. “You even make threats like a Klingon.”  
  
“Captain Janeway,” Tuvok said in an even-toned rebuke.  
  
Kathryn pressed the blade into Stadi’s skin just enough to draw a little blood. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me, telepath, and you never will.” With that, she got to her feet and stalked away. “I want to be returned to my ship. Now.”  
  
“Her questionable methods notwithstanding,” Tuvok said carefully, “I agree with my associate. It would be preferable for you and Captain Chakotay to carry out the mission from our vessel. Not only will this protect our temporary alliance against any further ill-conceived actions, it will also make our coordinated efforts easier to carry out.”  
  
“And what are we supposed to do with our time between here and Tzenketh?”  
  
Stadi’s eyes flicked from Kathryn to Chakotay and back again as she dabbed at the wound on her neck with a napkin. “There’s a week’s worth of supplementary sexual health injections in the bedside table for you to use. Specially formulated for Terran physiology.” She gave them a leering smile. “I’m sure you’ll keep yourselves busy.”

* * *

Two hours later, Kathryn and Chakotay were bunked together in guest quarters aboard the surprisingly-advanced Vulcan spy vessel. Chakotay seemed entirely at ease sitting on one of the two full-sized beds, though it had to be a facade. No way could he be that calm.

Kathryn paced.  
  
“What do you want to do?” Chakotay asked.  
  
What, indeed? What was there to do? They weren’t exactly prisoners. They’d both been given free run of all non-vital areas of the ship. Yet, Kathryn felt like a caged animal.  
  
“Honestly?” she asked.

“I’d prefer honesty, yes, but deflection works, too.”  
  
His gentle tease stopped her in her tracks. She turned to look at him—really look at him—for the first time since the night before. “Part of me wants to throw you on the bed and fuck you until I forget about her. Another part of me isn’t even remotely in the mood.”  
  
“I can understand that,” he said. “Does the rest of you have any better ideas?”  
  
“Drink. Fight. Find a criminal to torture.”  
  
He chuckled. “I don’t know about that last one, but the other two are viable options. May I suggest we do the fighting before we do any drinking?”  
  
“How would we do that?”  
  
“This ship has a few small sparring gyms. We could book some time in one, then head over to the mess hall and have dinner.” He shrugged. “Or drink our dinners.”

She put a hand on her hip. “Are you telling me that these Vulcans, who eat legumes and weeds for breakfast, keep liquor on their fancy spy ships?”

“As a matter of fact, Vulcans make some of the best wine in the quadrant.”

Kathryn gave him a knife-sharp smile. “So I get to kick your ass and drink you under the table?”  
  
When Chakotay smiled back, the dimples sank all the way into his cheeks. “You can try.”

* * *

By the time they stumbled back to their quarters that night, Kathryn had drowned every haunting memory in her head. All she knew was the man before her whose kisses made her breathless, whose touch made her tremble, and whose agile mind kept her coming back for more. The encounter was hasty and sloppy and over with far too quickly, but it was like being young all over again.  
  
When she awoke the next morning with Chakotay’s arms wrapped around her naked body and her head on his chest, she didn’t panic or curse herself for letting her guard down. She pulled herself on top of him, kissed him awake, and seesawed over his hips until he was bucking against her and moaning into her mouth.

“Take me,” he murmured.

Kathryn pushed up, met Chakotay’s needful gaze, and lowered herself onto him. A sigh escaped his lips, and she shuddered at the satisfying fullness of being joined to him again. With tentative fingers, she touched the tattoo on his chest.

He didn’t push her away.

Three double-banded circles—one for his wife, the other two for his sons. She didn’t have to ask if that’s what the design was for. It wasn’t hard to figure out once she’d heard his story. He was exactly the type to wear his love on his skin like that.  
  
But such memories were not fit for their temporary hideaway. She kissed the place where the circles connected, then put all of it behind them. She kissed his collarbone, the crook of his neck, the bulge of his throat. Then she took his lips and moved with him, one sinuous wave after another, towards a slow-building climax.

He put his hands on her waist, holding her steady as she heaved and rolled against him. Every part of them touched—her breasts flat against his chest, her fingers curled over his shoulders, her toes stretched against his feet. Her body thrilled at his touch.

When she couldn’t breathe anymore, she broke the kiss and studied his face. The look in his dark eyes was loaded with emotions she had no desire to untangle, yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away. It was erotic, watching his eyes, like moving inside his head the way he moved inside her body.

Even so, her eyes snapped shut when she came, a blinding flash of light overtaking her vision like lightning above a rolling ocean. A sharp cry escaped her lips, and she lost track of her rhythm.

Still, Chakotay continued to move, speeding his pace as she pulsed around him.

Kathryn dug her nails into his skin and fucked him harder, meeting him thrust for thrust. Pleasure swelled, crested, and crashed once more, and she dragged him down with her.

He barely made a sound as he came, just a murmur that was almost completely swallowed up her hoarse moans and the thunder rumbling in her ears. She didn’t know what he’d said, nor did she want to. His cock throbbed inside her, and she rocked back and forth until he was done.

When their bodies finally stopped vibrating, she took his face in her hands and kissed him, then slipped away to shower and dress for breakfast.  
  
For three days, they existed that way. Cut off from their ships and their duties, hurtling away from the places of pain in their pasts, they lived as if inside a parallel universe. It wouldn’t last, of course, and perhaps that was why Kathryn chose to embrace it while she had the chance. Never again would she allow herself to fall victim to the great turncoat that was love.  
  
But for three days, she gave it a place to lay its head.

* * *

It was almost another full day before Ezri Tigan’s ship turned up at the Tzenkethi space port. Tuvok had instructed Harry and B’Elanna to hide their ships behind one of the planet’s moons so as to not spook her and the Bajoran agent she seemed to be working for. Neither was happy with the arrangement, but a word from their respective captains quickly shut them up.  
  
Despite her frustration with the telepaths, Kathryn admired their efficiency. Practically all Stadi had to do was smile at a station security officer to convince him to let her have a peak at the tiny unregistered vessel. Of course, Kathryn knew Stadi had used far more than a smile on the imbecilic rent-a-cop.  
  
Things like that were the reason why she never trusted a telepath.  
  
“I don’t sense anyone on board,” Stadi said.  
  
“Even so,” Tuvok said, “we should proceed with caution.” He and Stadi both retrieved hand-held scanners to aid in the search for the cloaking device, but nothing seemed to register.  
  
“Ezri had a dampening field active when we caught up to her at 70 Ophiuchi,” Chakotay said. “Could that be the problem?”  
  
Tuvok’s brows drew together as he examined his device. “The readings are inconsistent with an active dampening field. However, I am unable to determine the cause of our problem.”  
  
“I guess we’ll just have to look the old fashioned way,” Kathryn said as she pried open a storage locker.  
  
The ship was so small it didn’t even have a proper brig. Either the cloaking device was incredibly well hidden, or it was no longer on board. Kathryn knew there was no way it would have been that easy to take her loot back, but part of her had hoped she’d get lucky.  
  
Where had the agent taken Marta?  
  
They were near the end of their search when a faint thumping made them all freeze in place. Kathryn frowned, one hand on her knife, trying to follow the sound with her ears. As she glanced in the direction of its source, she noticed Tuvok already curling his fingers around the door of a storage locker they’d yet to investigate. He gave it a firm tug, but it refused to give way.  
  
Stadi was off to the side, disruptor armed and pointed at the locker.

Kathryn’s stomach was in her boots. She swallowed repeatedly just to keep her throat from closing in on itself. If Marta was in that locker, she’d have to kill her, no matter how much she dreaded it. Letting a traitor live was a captain’s death sentence, and she refused to be marked by anyone as soft.

Taking a small device from the pack around his waist, Tuvok methodically cracked the locker’s security code. He pulled again at the door and it swung open, depositing a thin Trill woman in a heap on the deck.  
  
Chakotay frowned. “Ezri Tigan.”  
  
The woman squinted at him, swaying a bit as she tried to brace her hands beneath her. “D’ I know you?” She smacked her lips, grimaced, and vomited on the floor. “Ew.”  
  
Then she passed out, collapsing into her own mess.

Kathryn let go of the knife.

“Well,” Stadi said, “that’s not what I expected to find.”

* * *

It took an hour for the Vulcan medical staff to clear all the drugs from Ezri Tigan’s system. She’d been so heavily sedated that Stadi couldn’t reach the young Trill’s mind even in her brief moments of consciousness. Once she’d been sobered up, the senior practitioner requested they let the girl sleep before interrogating her.  
  
Tuvok overruled the doctor and dismissed him.  
  
Ezri sat up against the raised bed and glared at them like a sullen teenager, electric blue eyes slitted beneath short spiky hair that was as black as the spots framing her face and neck. Her arms were crossed, the thick protective material of her black jacket whispering against itself every time she moved.

“How old are you?” Kathryn asked.  
  
“Twenty-two. Why? How old are you, Janeway?”  
  
Kathryn smiled, pleased to be recognized beyond the borders of her usual neighborhood. “Old enough to know not to answer that question.”  
  
“Why did Special Agent Seska remand you to a storage locker?” Tuvok asked.  
  
Ezri’s eyes flicked to the Vulcan. “Probably because my ship doesn’t have a brig.”  
  
“And what about the Terran, Marta Zelle? What did the agent do with her?”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only saw one person, and she shot me full of drugs and stuffed me in a box.”  
  
“Describe this person.”  
  
“I can’t. I didn’t get a good look.”  
  
“Let me get the answers for you, sir,” Stadi said.  
  
Ezri frowned, curling her legs against her body. “What are you gonna do?”  
  
“Very well, Miss Stadi,” Tuvok said.  
  
Ezri raised her hands and repeated in a louder voice, “What are you going to do?”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Stadi said. “This isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as people say it is.”  
  
Suddenly, Ezri’s body went rigid. Her eyes locked onto Stadi’s, and her breathing synchronized with the Betazoid’s rhythm. For a long moment, the two women stayed very still, one mind probing the other for information.  
  
Kathryn shuddered.  
  
When Stadi released Ezri, the young Trill slumped back against the mattress and rubbed her head, muttering profanities to herself.  
  
“We were wrong,” Stadi said. “Tigan isn’t working for the Bajorans.”  
  
“So she only conspired with Marta?” Chakotay asked.  
  
“No. She wasn’t working for anyone.”  
  
“Of course I wasn’t,” Ezri snapped. “I only work for me, and what I want is to make a profit. I could have retired to Risa with all the money Intendant Miral was willing to pay me for that cloak.” Ezri skimmed her eyes up and down Kathryn’s form. “Until her monster came and ruined everything.”  
  
“Are Miss Tigan’s sentiments truthful?” Tuvok asked his associate.  
  
“They are,” Stadi said.  
  
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Ezri muttered.  
  
“Given that your last lover was the Bajoran intendant,” Stadi said, “whom you allowed to escape from the regent’s ship before it was captured, can you really blame me?”  
  
“You don’t understand.”  
  
Stadi crossed her arms. “You don’t repay help with betrayal. I understand just fine.”  
  
Kathryn frowned, frustrated by the conversation’s change in direction. “If Tigan wasn’t working for the Bajorans, then where did this Agent Seska come from?”  
  
“That’s a good question,” Stadi said. “All Tigan saw after being returned to her ship was a tall female figure in a hooded black overcoat whose face was concealed. She never encountered Marta Zelle.”  
  
“Perhaps the agent had been waiting on the vessel for Miss Tigan and Miss Zelle to arrive,” Tuvok said.  
  
“You think Marta may have been the one working for the Bajorans instead of Ezri?” Chakotay asked.  
  
“It is possible.”  
  
It made no sense to Kathryn. Why would Marta give a shit about Bajoran independence? The only possible explanation was that Marta meant to sell the device to the Bajorans in exchange for a ship of her own, and perhaps even a lucrative business arrangement with the Bajoran intendant. _My turn_ , her final message had read. How long had the woman been harboring resentment towards Kathryn over her position? And why hadn’t she said anything about it?  
  
Only one thing was certain as far as Kathryn was concerned. She would find her former first mate and take back the device that was rightfully hers.  
  
Then she would bathe in Marta’s blood.

* * *

In the mess hall, Kathryn picked at her lunch. “A wall full of food synthesizers,” she lamented to Chakotay, “and not a single Terran item in the database. It’s like they’re not even on the same side of your foolish war as the resistance.”  
  
Chakotay shrugged. “The Vulcan spy network has been around since before Spock ruled the Terran Empire, and it will continue long after the resistance is gone. Why should they change what’s worked for over a century on account of us?”  
  
“It’s just goddamn common courtesy. If they’re going to kidnap Terrans to do their work for them, the least they could do is synthesize me a fucking steak.”  
  
“I’m not even sure what that is.”  
  
“It’s a cut of meat, Chakotay. You never had steak on a holiday?”

“We lived on cheap plant and insect proteins.”

“You have no idea what you’re missing.”  
  
Chakotay took a bite of his food, nodding as if in approval. “Maybe. On the plus side, I can appreciate the Vulcan food we’ve got right here. It’s a bit bland for my taste, but other than that it’s actually pretty good.”

Kathryn speared a slime-covered mushroom with her fork and held it up. “You think _this_ is good?”

“I do. Believe it or not, this is much better quality than what we had on Ganymede.”  
  
“I’d imagine anything’s better than cock-blocking rocks and vacuum-packed grubs. That still doesn’t make this a good meal.”  
  
“My God,” Chakotay murmured, dropping his fork as his expression grew distant. “That’s it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The reason Tuvok and Stadi’s scanners wouldn’t work. The cargo hold on Ezri’s ship has several cases of raw minerals. I’ll bet at least one of them was topaline.”  
  
“So?”  
  
He leaned in. “So, maybe the cloak is still over there, we just can’t detect it because of sensor interference.”

“Is there a way to tell?”  
  
“Ideally, you’d need to do a chemical test on a sample of the mineral itself, but there is a sensor modification that could give us a fairly probable result.”  
  
Kathryn smiled and set down her fork. “Well then, I say we find Tuvok and—“  
  
Suddenly, the lights running along the bulkheads shifted from blue to red.  
  
“Shit,” Chakotay said, wide eyes fixed on something behind her as he scrambled to his feet.  
  
When Kathryn turned to follow his gaze, her heart sank at the sight of what had appeared beyond the viewport—a whole line of Cardassian Galor-class cruisers floating just outside.


	6. Chapter 6

Kathryn wasn’t sure where exactly Chakotay intended to go. He knew as well as she did that they would never get near the Vulcan ship’s bridge. Still, when he fled the mess hall, she followed without protest. It was better than standing around and waiting to be destroyed.  
  
He didn’t head for the bridge, however, as she’d suspected he might. Instead, Chakotay led them into their guest quarters.  
  
“Why—?”  
  
“Shh,” he snapped as he began tearing apart the bulkhead next to the door.  
  
Kathryn scowled and crossed her arms. “You don’t get to shush me just because I’ve played nice with you for a few days.”  
  
He threw her a backwards glance. “Trust me on this one, okay?”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
A tense silence passed, seconds stretching into unbearable eternities waiting for the Cardassians to start shooting. Chakotay tugged and twisted at the wires coursing through the ship’s walls like a nervous system, crossing some and redirecting others, until finally he extracted his hands and turned towards her. Then, just like he’d done on her ship, he pinched a lump in the hem of his long sleeve.  
  
“B’Elanna,” he said, lifting his wrist to his mouth. “B’Elanna, do you copy?”  
  
Kathryn waited, arms slipping down to her sides as she leaned in. But when the hidden comm device crackled to life, it wasn’t the daughter of Miral that answered his call.  
  
It was Tom.  
  
“I read you, Captain Chakotay.”  
  
Chakotay frowned. “What the hell are you doing with my comm, flyboy?”  
  
“Saving your ass. Actually, I’m more interested in Captain Janeway, but I told your pet Klingon I’d give you a ride, too.”  
  
Kathryn smiled. “Where are you, Helmsman?”  
  
“A few kilometers off your port bow. I’m keeping it dark so those Cardies don’t see me, but once I beam you over, we’re probably gonna have to make a run for it. I’m hoping they’ll be too busy to care about one little shuttle, but I guess we’ll find out. I’ll be in transporter range in about sixty seconds, so grab your shit and make sure you’re both in physical contact with that comm device. I only get one shot at this.”  
  
“Understood.”  
  
“We’ll be ready. Chakotay out.” He pinched the device again and settled his dark eyes on Kathryn’s. “I guess our crews found a way to work together in spite of our absence.”  
  
Kathryn tipped her head. “Always good to know they’re still loyal to their captains.” She waited just long enough to catch the barest hint of a smile on his face before she turned to snatch a sheet from the bed, pried open the bulkhead behind the bedside table, and collected her small treasure trove of stolen Vulcan technology.

“When… did you…?” Chakotay sounded shocked.

“It’s been a careful four-day process.” She tied the corners of the sheet together and slung it over her shoulder. “They never even noticed.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to upset the Vulcan spy network?”  
  
“Over a few small gadgets? I’m not worried.” Sidling up beside him, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, trapping the comm device between them. “Besides, they had to know they ran a risk of things going missing when they brought a known pirate aboard their ship.”  
  
Chakotay huffed a laugh and shook his head just as the transporter beam swept them away.  
  
As soon as they materialized inside _Ching Shih’s_ small shuttlecraft, Tom shouted, “Buckle up!” back to them from the cockpit. Kathryn released her grip on Chakotay’s wrist, stuffed her makeshift bag into a locker, and strapped herself to one of the bench seats in the aft section.  
  
Before she’d even tightened the harness, the shuttle swooped and rolled in evasive maneuvers.  
  
“Suck on that, you fucking lizards,” Tom said from the cockpit.  
  
A moment later, the shuttle quaked from a disruptor blast.  
  
“Less showing off, more getting us out of here alive, Helmsman,” Kathryn chided.  
  
The shuttle swerved again. “Aye, Captain.”  
  
They must have moved beyond the range of the Cardassian warships after that, because no more shots or sudden maneuvers came. Ten minutes later, they docked in _Ching Shih’s_ shuttle bay.  
  
Walking down the ramp out of the shuttle, Kathryn lifted her nose in the air and took a deep breath. “It is good to be home.”  
  
Chakotay’s hand settled on her shoulder. “We need to get Ezri’s ship before anyone else does.”  
  
“Captain,” Tom said, rushing in front of her. “Bad news. The Bajorans and the Terran Resistance just showed up.”  
  
“This Agent Seska didn’t do a good job encrypting her message,” Kathryn said.  
  
“Meaning the Klingons probably heard it, too,” Chakotay said. “We’re about to witness a four-sided shooting war, and everyone wants that ship.”  
  
She threw him a look over her shoulder. “I’m not witnessing anything. I intend to get my cloak and my treacherous first mate back and get the hell out of here.”  
  
“Then we’d better get to the bridge.”

* * *

The moment Harry spotted Kathryn stepping off the lift, he stood from her command chair and called out, “Captain on the bridge!”  
  
Every head turned, eyes brightening with recognition, bodies straightening and coming to attention. Kathryn’s chest tightened, her emotions telling her to laugh and cry all at once, but she simply tipped her lips into a sharp, crooked smile. “Thank you, Bos’n. Take your stations, people. Let’s get this done.”  
  
Kathryn barely had time to take her seat at the center of the bridge before someone’s station beeped in notification. “Captain,” said Cavit, “a Klingon fleet has just dropped out of warp at the Tzenkethi port. They’ve opened fire on the Cardassians.”  
  
“What about Tigan’s ship?”  
  
“The Cardassians are defending it, but it looks to be in one piece.”  
  
“Captain,” Harry said, “There are twenty-seven ships trying to escape the port. One of them is definitely the corvette we found Intendant Miral on.”  
  
Kathryn frowned. How had the corvette gotten to Tzenketh? It was a question she’d have to save for later. At the moment, she had to choose which ship to stay with. There was nothing she could do about Ezri’s ship until the Alliance forces thinned, but whoever was flying the corvette was important. The more Kathryn thought about it, the more convinced she was that Ezri’s ship was simply a diversion.

And Kathryn had every last spec on the corvette in her database, down to its standard and backup shield frequencies.

“Chakotay, hail B’Elanna. Tell her to stay put and listen closely. Bos’n, Gunner, power up _Ching Shih’s_  systems. Helmsman, take us out of orbit and set a pursuit course. Do you remember that blind spot you told us about?”  
  
“Yeah...?”  
  
“You’re going to give B’Elanna a chance to use it. Force the corvette back this way. When _Valjean_ is in position beneath the starboard wing, Captain Chakotay and I will route our transporters through _Valjean’s_ and sneak aboard. We’ll neutralize whoever’s there and take that ship for ourselves.”  
  
Responses of “Aye, Captain” echoed through the bridge as everyone turned to follow her commands. When Chakotay signed off with B’Elanna, he looked to Kathryn.  
  
“Captain,” Cavit said, “the Klingons have spotted us. A _Vor’cha_ class cruiser has broken off from their fleet to pursue.”  
  
Kathryn stood and headed for the lift. “Then Captain Chakotay and I will have to work fast to commandeer that corvette.”  
  
”Captain,” Harry said, stepping away from his station and coming along beside her. “Let me go with Captain Chakotay. No one knows the Klingons better than you. We need you here.”  
  
Kathryn paused, studying his face. “Is that fear I see, Bos’n?”  
  
He lifted his chin. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”  
  
She smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Just find anything you can use to your advantage and exploit it. When was the last time you scanned _Valjean_?”  
  
He frowned. “An hour ago.”  
  
“Was Intendant Miral still alive?”  
  
Harry swallowed. “B’Elanna killed her while we were in orbit of Vega IX.”  
  
“Good. Then there are two high level positions open for that cruiser’s captain to covet. Use that. Do whatever it takes.” She patted his shoulder and followed Chakotay into the lift. Once inside, she turned one last time towards Harry. “Consider this a test, Mister Kim.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For the position of my new first mate.”

His mouth gaped slightly. It was so very amusing to catch people by surprise.

“Oh, and before I forget—“ Kathryn squeezed two fingers into the cup of her bustier, wriggling them until she reached the tiny device hidden inside. She pulled the Vulcan receiver out and tossed it to Harry. “Do send someone to go retrieve that Trill. Without her, it will take months to figure out the cloaking device, and we need to disappear.”

Collecting his composure once more, he straightened his spine and replied, “Aye, Captain.”

She tapped the panel inside the lift, closing the door and sending it shooting down into the depths of her old, trusty ship.  
  
In the transporter room, Kathryn opened every tactical storage locker and stocked up. She traded out her separate shoulder and waist armor pieces for a full tactical vest, strapped two disruptors to her thighs, stowed power cells and grenades and knives in their proper places. She invited Chakotay to partake, tossing him a tactical vest and giving him leave to raid what was left of the supplies after she was done.  
  
“Bridge to transporter room one,” Harry said over the comm. “Are you two ready?”  
  
Kathryn glanced at Chakotay, who gave her a firm nod, before responding, “Absolutely.”  
  
“Acknowledged. Transport in thirty.”  
  
Kathryn stepped onto the transporter pad, Chakotay following close behind.  
  
“You think she’s over there, don’t you?” he asked. “Marta.”  
  
“Who else would it be?”  
  
“Could be anyone.”  
  
“Says your rational mind, but you know I’m right.”  
  
He hesitated before admitting, “Yes, I think it’s her and the Bajoran agent, and I think they have the cloak. I think they wanted that message to get out to everyone so they could disappear in the chaos.”  
  
“I agree,” Kathryn said, double-checking all her holsters and pockets. “But we’re not letting that happen.”  
  
“Not on your life.”  
  
“Ten seconds,” Harry announced. “Nine, eight...”  
  
Kathryn took out one of her disruptors and raised it into position. “There’s a Vulcan scanner in your left breast pocket. Use it to find the cloak.”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
She flicked her eyes towards him. “I’m going after Marta.”  
  
“...two, one, energize.”

* * *

Slowly, silently, Kathryn crept towards the cockpit of the corvette, keeping her feet wide and her knees bent to absorb any sudden movements the ship might make. The pilot was good, though, for despite being chased by _Ching Shih_ and a Klingon warship, she was steady as a rock.  
  
There was a body on the deck behind the pilot’s seat. Kathryn froze, pointing her disruptor at it, waiting for it to move. It didn’t. As Kathryn stepped closer, she noticed the man’s dull green skin, flaccid dick hanging out of his open pants, and a bright red cut across his neck.  
  
Nimobi-Taras, the Orion merchant who had sold Intendant Miral that very ship.  
  
“He flew it here for me,” the pilot said.  
  
Kathryn tensed, raising the disruptor to the pilot’s chair. Her intestines twisted into knots as fury boiled in her blood. She would have known that voice anywhere.  
  
“I struck a deal with him the night we made our little plan with those rebel scumbags to capture the intendant’s ship.” Pale, slender fingers gestured outward. “This ship. While you were fucking the enemy, I was fucking myself on a comm channel for that dirty old man.”  
  
“You agreed to his price,” Kathryn muttered. “To get the specs. You didn’t hesitate.”  
  
“Of course I agreed. I needed his help, and he was very pleased with the payment, so I offered him a more personal encounter if he agreed to bring the corvette to Tzenketh for me.” She shrugged a sharp shoulder. “I might have also implied that the Alliance would reward him _very_ generously if he got me as far as Bajor. But that was just to keep him from doing anything stupid.”  
  
“Then why is he dead?”  
  
“I don’t feel like fucking today. I feel like killing.” With a few taps on the panel, the corvette jumped to warp. The chair twisted around and Marta locked those enchanting green eyes of hers onto Kathryn. Her face and clothes were spattered with the Orion merchant’s blood. “How about you, Kate? What do you feel like doing right now?”  
  
With Chakotay still searching other parts of the ship for the cloaking device, and no clue where the Bajoran special agent was, Kathryn knew her best chance was to shoot Marta right there. One down, one to go. She’d wanted to take her time, to force Marta to submit, to beg, to explain why she’d stabbed her partner in the back, but there was no time. Either way, Marta would get what she deserved.  
  
Kathryn squeezed the trigger, sending a bright burst of energy straight at Marta’s ugly heart, but the shot was stopped short by some kind of energy field protecting the cockpit.  
  
“Oh, did I forget to mention? You don’t get to touch me anymore.”  
  
Behind her, Kathryn heard the whine of a disruptor powering up. She whipped around, ready to murder the Bajoran bitch who had taken everything from her, but no one was there.  
  
Then she was tackled to the deck.  
  
Marta’s body pinned Kathryn to the floor. Kathryn managed to hang onto her gun, but Marta twisted her arm painfully behind her back and wrenched the weapon from her fingers. Its icy metallic nose pressed against the base of her skull.  
  
“Where is Agent Seska?” Kathryn demanded.  
  
Marta laughed. “Oh, come now, Kate, I really thought you were smarter than this.” She leaned down, brushing her lips against Kathryn’s ear. “I’m Agent Seska.”  
  
Suddenly, the pieces came together in Kathryn’s mind—Marta disappearing in the Badlands when rebellion broke out in the Bajoran sector five years before, her eventual return alive when she should have been dead, how different she’d been after that mission, how she’d refused to talk about what they did to her.  
  
“It wasn’t the rebels who captured you in the Badlands,” Kathryn said. “It was the Bajorans.”  
  
Marta hummed. “You’re not _completely_ wrong.”  
  
An Alliance ship, perhaps? Kathryn turned her head to the side, straining to look her enemy in the face. What had they turned her into? “The Marta I knew would never betray me. She’d rather die.”  
  
“Strangely enough, that’s actually true.”  
  
“Then why…” The words died on her tongue as realization struck. “You’re not Marta, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“So the Alliance altered you to look like her and planted you on my ship.”  
  
Seska laughed. “Deep cover requires more than just cosmetic surgery. I had to literally become someone else—someone from another species—DNA and memories and all. Do you really think anyone in the Alliance would just _share_ that kind of technology with each other?”  
  
Kathryn frowned. “Then who?”  
  
“Take a wild guess.”  
  
While Kathryn supposed it was possible the Klingons could have such abilities, she doubted it. Powerful and numerous as they’d become since the fall of the Terran Empire, they’d never quite been able to recover from the destruction Terrans had reigned down on Qo’nos more than a century before. Besides, Seska was a Bajoran name, and the Klingons weren’t usually the ones who cared to meddle in Bajoran affairs.  
  
“Cardassians.”  
  
Seska clicked her tongue. “See? I knew you could figure it out if you put your mind to it.” She powered up the disruptor. “Too bad you’ll never be able to tell anyone.”  
  
“Just answer one more question.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“What happened to Marta?”  
  
Seska shrugged. “Don’t know. They didn’t tell me, but if I had to guess... she’s probably braindead in a stasis chamber somewhere on Cardassia Prime.”  
  
Kathryn swallowed, throat bobbing against the rough carpet. Her eyes were wet and stinging, so she squeezed them shut to release the built-up tears. Marta— _her_ Marta—as good as dead. And she hadn’t even known it.

“Wow,” Seska said. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think I’d get to see the intendant’s notorious monster cry before I killed you. She’d be so disappointed.”

“ _They’re just tears, Kathryn_ ,” Chakotay had said once, “ _not white flags_.” And he was right. Showing emotion may not have been ideal, but it wasn’t the same as surrender.  
  
Kathryn braced herself on one hand. “You’re not _completely_ wrong.”  
  
Before the words had a chance to land, Kathryn exploded onto her knees, thrusting her hips upward and forcing Seska to post both hands on the floor. She hooked Seska’s arm and flipped her, catching the disruptor as she rolled away. The weapon skittered across the deck, out of reach, but Kathryn was already pulling the second disruptor from her thigh.  
  
Seska was equally fast, grabbing a disruptor of her own. They were in a stand-off, circling each other slowly. Seska smirked. “There’s no point, Kate. Everyone’s seen your neck—your crew, the rebels, the Alliance. Me. We all know you can bleed.”  
  
“Everyone bleeds. Only the strong survive.” Kathryn squeezed off a shot to distract as she dropped into a roll. The bulkhead behind her hissed, hit by a discharge from Seska’s weapon. Coming up inside Seska’s guard, Kathryn wrapped her arm around the woman’s wrist and shoved an elbow into her face. She twisted the disruptor from Seska’s fingers and tossed it down the wide corridor.  
  
Seska snatched Kathryn’s weapon and threw it away. Then she coiled an arm around Kathryn’s throat. “So this is how you want to play it?” she purred in Kathryn’s ear. “No weapons, just you against me. You always were one to take the hard way out of a fight.”  
  
She wasn’t wrong. It was one of Kathryn’s few concessions to foolish desire. But for once, it was about more than just the risk, the adrenaline fix, or the thrill of hand-to-hand combat. Seska didn’t deserve a quick, painless death.  
  
No, Kathryn wanted to feel the Cardie’s blood on her hands.  
  
Grabbing the arm around her neck, Kathryn elbowed Seska in the gut. When Seska’s grip loosened, Kathryn thrust her hips back and flipped the other woman onto the deck. She managed to serve one hard kick to Seska’s ribs before the agent rolled and staggered to her feet. Seska charged forward, slamming Kathryn against the bulkhead and wrapping her hands around Kathryn’s neck.  
  
Pain bloomed in Kathryn’s throat where Seska pressed down to cut off her air. Kathryn grabbed Seska’s wrists. She aimed a knee at Seska’s groin, but Seska deflected and pinned Kathryn’s leg to the bulkhead. Kathryn’s mouth opened in a scream as the muscles in her thigh strained and tore, but only a ragged squeak came out. She couldn’t breathe. She clawed at Seska’s hands, but it was no use. The edges of her vision blurred and darkened. She was going to die.

Where the hell was Chakotay?

Seska smiled. “Goodbye, Kate.”

No. No. This wasn’t how Kathryn was going to go. She refused to die by Seska’s hand.

Gritting her teeth, Kathryn crossed an arm over Seska’s and thrust her palm into the other woman’s nose. She was rewarded with a loud crunch, blood instantly pouring down Seska’s stolen face. The grip on her neck loosened and Seska stumbled a half-step back.

Kathryn coughed and gagged, gulping the cool air down her burning throat. Her thigh was on fire, muscles refusing to move. She had to finish the fight fast, but her mind refused to work.

Marta wiped the blood from her face, but more poured out. She shook her head and reached for Kathryn’s throat. Kathryn tried to deflect, but her movements were too slow. Once again, Marta was choking her. Why was Marta choking her?

No. It wasn’t Marta.

Kathryn twisted her shoulders and jammed an elbow into Seska’s face.

Seska’s head snapped back. She staggered, heel catching on the toe of Kathryn’s boot, and toppled to the deck.  
  
Yanking a knife from her vest, Kathryn mounted Seska’s hips and swung hard, slicing Seska’s blocking arm to the bone.  
  
Seska screamed, writing beneath Kathryn’s weight. With her good hand she tried to reach for Kathryn’s face, but Kathryn deflected and twisted the agent’s arm until it snapped.  
  
Then Kathryn drew her blade across Seska’s throat.

With the final move, time itself seemed to slow and unravel, tearing Kathryn in two. One of the Kathryns was pure vengeance, grinning with glee at another victorious battle, thrilling to watch the trickster die for what she had done, taking an almost erotic pleasure from the gurgling noises the agent made as she choked on her own blood.  
  
But then there was another Kathryn, the one who had loved Marta for as long as she could remember, who held the blood-covered knife away from herself as if it was the real traitor. She couldn’t help but stare down at the woman beneath her and see Marta—whose green eyes had shimmered with mischief the day she and Kathryn stole Phoebe’s favorite toy, had widened with ecstasy the first time they tried uppers at a party, had looked upon Kathryn with unbridled lust from beneath those long black lashes the first time they made love.  
  
Kathryn watched those eyes, wide open with shock and agony, go still beneath her, and it snapped something deep inside of her that she knew would never heal.  
  
Dropping the knife, Kathryn curled her fingers in Seska’s long, dark hair. “You bitch,” she snarled. Then she yelled, “You _mother-fucking bitch_! How dare you wear her face!” She slammed the woman’s head against the deck over and over until the back of her skull flattened and her scalp was sticking to the floor.

Kathryn lifted her face to the stars and screamed.  
  
_She could still be alive, Katie,_ Phoebe insisted from inside her head, but Kathryn knew better than to hope. And at the moment, she wasn’t sure if she would ever have the strength to handle losing Marta all over again.  
  
“She’s dead,” she told herself. “She’s dead. She’s dead. They killed her. She’s dead.”  
  
There was only one thing left to do—take the cloaking device for herself and slaughter as many Cardassians as she could find until Marta’s blood was satisfied.

Until not even the memory of the Cardassian Union remained.  
  
She was still repeating her twisted mantra when two warm arms wrapped around her. A familiar heady scent overtook the tang of blood in the air as Chakotay pulled her against his chest. He dragged her backwards, away from Marta—no, Seska—away from the blood and the death and the betrayal.  
  
“Come here,” he said, and for some unknowable reason, she didn’t fight him. He took her into the cockpit, shielding her from the sight of Seska’s mangled corpse. He held her tightly as she cried, stroking her hair and saying nothing. What could he say? There was nothing to be said anymore, only vengeance to be had.  
  
And Kathryn swore to herself that she would have it.


	7. Chapter 7

It took Kathryn too long to calm down. Again, she had allowed Chakotay to witness her in a weak moment, yet the thought no longer brought anger or shame. It brought no emotion at all.

Wiping her eyes and extricating herself from his arms, she ordered him to take the helm and limped to the co-pilot’s seat. “Bring us about. We need to assist our ships with that Klingon battle cruiser.”

“Alright.”

Soon enough, they were dropping out of warp only to find that Harry and B’Elanna hadn’t needed their help after all. It was no small feat for a rebuilt Klingon D7 warship and a re-appropriated Alliance raider to take down a state-of-the-art _Vor’cha_ class cruiser, but all that remained of their pursuer was a debris field.

If murdering an intendant and stealing rare technology didn’t solidify her status as an enemy of the Alliance, vaporizing a Klingon warship certainly would.

Kathryn opened a comm channel to _Ching Shih_. Harry’s image filled the corvette’s modest viewscreen.

“I take it this means mission accomplished?” he asked.

“Mission accomplished,” she confirmed. “We should find somewhere close to lay low for a few hours while we examine this ship and get our new crewmate on board.”

Normally, she would already have a place in mind. Even outside of her usual jurisdiction, she knew Alliance-occupied territory like the back of her hand. Yet for some reason, she couldn’t seem to call that knowledge to mind.

If anyone asked, she’d tell them it was another test for her soon-to-be first mate.

“The Alkaid system is the best option I can think of,” Harry said.

She tipped her head. “My thoughts exactly. Inform _Valjean_  of our plan. Have you sent a shuttle to retrieve Ezri Tigan?”

“Cavit is on his way now, Captain. It’s a mess back there. It may take him some time.”

“As long as the job gets done. Let him know where we’re going and set a course. Maximum warp.”

“Aye, Captain.” With that, she dropped the channel and slumped back into her seat.

Beside her, Chakotay tapped commands into the helm interface and jumped the ship to warp. He twisted his seat towards her, and the expression on his face almost felt pitying… except it wasn’t quite that. No, the longer she looked, the more it struck her as something else. Something deeper, more honest, and more profound. What was the word?

Empathy.

Either way, she hated it and turned her face away. “What took you so long?”

“Topaline. I was right. She was using it to hide the device. I had to recalibrate that scanner to find it.”

“Oh.”

She wanted to be furious with him for not coming when she was in trouble. Normally, she would have been furious with herself for expecting someone else to save her. Either way, she should have felt something. Anything at all. Instead it was as if she’d cut open her emotions like she’d cut Seska’s neck, and the gush of feelings at the end of the fight had been her spirit choking and gurgling as it bled out for the last time. Nothing inside of her was alive anymore.

“I’ll take care of the bodies,” Chakotay said. “You should go in back and get some rest.”

“Someone needs to watch the con.”

His lack of response was difficult to parse, and frankly she didn’t care. After a few seconds, the sound of his footfalls retreated from the cockpit. He shuffled around the ship, cleansing it of as much death as he could, and not once did Kathryn turn to watch.

Nothing appeared on sensors, and soon Kathryn’s weary body dragged her deeply into sleep.

* * *

Kathryn awoke to Chakotay dropping the ship out of warp and putting them in orbit around a planet just inside the uninhabited Alkaid system’s asteroid belt. Her muscles were stiff and everything hurt, but she was rested. She shifted her weight and hissed at the sharp pain that cut through her thigh.

“I found some medical supplies in the back,” Chakotay said. “I can help you with that.”

“Fine.”

Chakotay reached into a satchel she hadn’t noticed at his feet and pulled out an Alliance-made muscular regenerator. Gingerly, Kathryn spread her legs to give him space to work. Her muscles grew uncomfortably warm beneath the device, tingling as the torn fibers knit themselves back together, but it did the job it was made to do.

When that was done, Chakotay returned to the bag and took out another device. “For your neck.”

Kathryn flinched, raising her hands.

“I won’t hurt you.”

She swallowed. Her windpipe screamed in protest. Kathryn nodded and tipped her head back.

Slowly, Chakotay erased the bruises from around her throat. The pain receded. With a gentle hand, he turned her head one way and then the other to reach the sides. When he was finished, he deactivated the device and brushed his thumb across the scar on her neck.

“When did it happen?” he asked. “The assassination attempt.”

“Thirteen years ago, while I was still working for one of Intendant Miral’s other privateers. I was the quartermaster, and I made the mistake of sleeping with the bos’n. He tried to murder me in my own bed, hoping for a promotion, but even back then I slept with a knife under my pillow. The intendant was so impressed that she gave me my own ship.”

He swapped the device for a moist cloth and wiped the blood from her hands. “ _Ching Shih.”_

Kathryn nodded. “It was still registered as _White Wolf_ at the time, but I petitioned to have the name changed. As many times as it’s been rebuilt, it’s essentially a new ship anyway. It deserved a new identity.”

“What does the name mean?”

“Ching Shih was a pirate in ancient Terran history. She was one of only a few female pirates from that time, but she was widely considered to be the most successful pirate in the world. Most pirates were killed or captured, but Ching Shih built a lucrative career out of it. She didn’t die by an enemy’s sword or an executioner’s blade, but of old age.”

Chakotay’s lips curled upward. “It’s a fitting name.”

Kathryn leaned forward, pulling away from Chakotay’s too-tender touch. She rolled her neck and stretched her newly-healed leg. No more pain. One body part at a time, she worked the stiffness out until she felt limber enough to get up and walk around.

She didn’t make it far.

A few meters outside the cockpit was the spot where Seska had died—where Kathryn had killed her, sliced open her throat and bashed her head against the deck. It was perfectly clean, and the cleanliness felt deeply, ineffably wrong.

Chakotay followed her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Energize.”

Kathryn didn’t even have time to frown before the ship’s transporter tore their atoms apart and rematerialized them in unfamiliar quarters. She wrenched free of his grasp and whirled on him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I thought you might not want to face your crew yet,” he said. “It’ll be a while before your shuttle comes back with Ezri.”

She took a breath and looked around. “These are your quarters then?”

“They are.”

“And what exactly are you expecting from me while I’m here?”

“Nothing.”

Kathryn raised her eyebrows. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink?”

“Whiskey?”

“All I’ve got is rotgut, but it gets the job done.”

“Sold.”

He gestured for her to sit at his small dinner table, and for a long while they drank in silence. It was nice. Almost relaxing.

Then, he began to ask questions. At first, he simply sought information about what had happened while he was searching for the cloaking device. She explained that Marta hadn’t actually been Marta, but a Cardassian spy, and that her “Agent Seska” moniker was just another layer in her deception.

It wasn’t long, however, before Chakotay started to pry.

She deflected his attempts, of course. The absolute last thing she wanted was to let someone trespass onto her memories of Marta or the mess of unspeakable emotions surrounding what had taken place.

Yet, for some reason, her refusal to engage him only made him press harder.

“What do you want from me?” she finally asked, banging the empty cup on the table.  
  
“I want you to show me some goddamn emotion! I know you have it in you. I’ve seen it more than once. Why all of the sudden are you hiding from me?”  
  
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m over it.”  
  
“Bullshit,” he spat, leaning so far over the table he had to brace his forearms against it. “The truth is you think showing emotion is weakness, and you’re shutting me out so it doesn’t hurt as bad when you leave.”  
  
She wanted to laugh at his ludicrous conjecture but held her tongue. With each passing second, she became more sure Chakotay was committed to dying on that particular hill. Pushing him away wasn’t going to work, so Kathryn tried a different tactic.

She stood and walked several paces away from him, hiding her face. “Why are you so insistent on this?”

His chair dragged against the carpet. A moment later, he was in front of her. He grabbed her arms. “Because I’ve been through heartbreak before, Kathryn. I know what helps.”  
  
She scoffed. “Yeah, well I don’t operate like other people. My... needs... aren’t exactly what you’d expect.”  
  
“Try me.”  
  
Kathryn fixed her gaze onto those dark, beautiful eyes, trying to make her face look like... well, whatever vulnerability looked like. “There’s only one thing that really helps me wind down after I’ve killed someone.”  
  
“What? Tell me. Maybe I can help.”  
  
She swallowed, jutting out her chin just enough to make the bobbing of her throat noticeable. “As a matter of fact, I think you can. And if you’re offering—“ She leaned into his body and pressed her palms to his chest. Parting her lips on a heavy intake of breath, she lifted up on her toes and touched her face to his. “Make love to me, Chakotay,” she whispered.

His cock twitched to life, and he drew in a sharp breath. “That wasn’t just anyone you killed.”

She slid her hands up his body. “It wasn’t Marta. It was an imposter.”

“You said that. Even so—“

Kathryn dragged his ear to her lips. “She was nothing but another failed back-stabber. I watched the light leave her eyes, just as I said I would. I drenched myself with her blood, and it makes me feel alive. I had that rush of emotion that comes with a hard kill, but it was thrilling all the same. And now, I need to feel you move inside me like I need air to breathe.”

A tremor passed through him. “Is this really what you want right now?”  
  
She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “With everything in me.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Chakotay seized her lips with his. His hands fell from her arms and he grabbed her hips, grinding against her until his cock was good and hard between them. He supped at her bottom lip, drawing it between his own and nipping at it.

Kathryn moaned into his mouth and repaid the gesture by running her tongue along that perfectly-sculpted upper lip. She pressed into his mouth and he welcomed her in, sliding his tongue against hers in rhythm with their hips.

With nimble fingers, Kathryn explored the supple skin of his lower back, sliding beneath the waistband of his pants and grasping at his ass. She met his swaying hips thrust for thrust, the friction between them hot enough to combust.  
  
“God, Kathryn,” he breathed, breaking their kiss and gasping for air. “You’re gonna get me off right here.”  
  
“Well that just won’t do, will it?” she said, flashing him a mischievous smile. She circled her hands around, allowing herself a quick detour to stroke that long, thick cock before tearing opening his pants and shoving them down his legs. He toed off his boots and stepped out of them, and tugged his shirt over his head.

Then he stripped Kathryn down to nothing.

Kathryn expected his next move would be to steer them both towards his bed, but Chakotay surprised her by backing her up against the nearest wall. Strong hands slid up the backs of her thighs and cupped her ass, then lifted her whole body off the ground until she was at his same height. She brought her knees up, wrapped her legs around his body, and canted her hips. Carefully, she reached down with one hand to move his cock into position.  
  
His eyes never left hers as he pushed inside her. His mouth fell open with an audible sigh and he rocked his hips over and over, driving her up and down against the bulkhead, until they settled into a synchronized rhythm.

Between the way he was fucking her and the pressure of her fingers on her clitoris, she quickly snapped into her first orgasm. She cried out, slamming her head against the wall as stars burst behind her eyes.

When the contractions subsided, Chakotay stepped back from the wall and carried her to his bed. It wasn’t a far walk—his quarters were even smaller than hers—but Kathryn still marveled at the man’s strength. She clutched his neck as he gently laid her on the mattress.  
  
Soon he was on top of her, sliding in and out and in again, pausing to slick her folds with the fluids dripping from them both, then resuming his motion while his fingers worked in circles around her clitoris. Kathryn hadn’t particularly been in the mood for sex when they started, but she couldn’t deny that some part of her was enjoying it in the moment. With the immediacy of Chakotay’s body and the practiced pleasure he was giving to her, Seska never once crossed her mind.

One after another, the orgasms rolled over her like waves on a beach back home in San Francisco. Chakotay was careful not to move too quickly, not to allow for an overabundance of his own stimulation. Every so often, he stopped moving all together—usually after Kathryn’s spasming insides left him gasping, barely hanging onto his control. It was as if he wasn’t seeking release at all, but only to extract as much pleasure from her as possible.  
  
When she was certain that her body had nothing left to give, she dragged his face to hers, kissed him, and whispered, “Your turn.”  
  
“You sure?” he panted.  
  
She hummed. “I want to feel you come inside me.”  
  
It didn’t take much, just a few quick thrusts snapping against her ten, maybe twenty times until, with a loud groan, his cock began pulsing violently. His hips stuttered several times, the orgasm lasting even longer than usual and, judging by the look on his face, providing more intense pleasure than he was used to. A rainfall of perspiration dripped all over her body, the cold sweat a sensory counterpoint to the warmth he was spilling inside her. His arms trembled with strain. When his orgasm finally subsided, he collapsed onto the mattress rolled onto his back, gasping for air.  
  
“Oh, God,” he said after, perhaps, a minute.  
  
Kathryn chortled. “You should try edging more often. It seems to work well for you.”  
  
He turned onto his side, eyes black in the darkness. “Honestly, I don’t seek out many sexual partners. I’ve only slept with a handful of people since I left Ganymede.”  
  
Kathryn couldn’t believe her ears. “Why not? Have you seen you? You could easily have just about anyone you wanted.”  
  
He shrugged. “I don’t have sex just to have sex. A few times I’ve used it for catharsis, but most of the time I’d rather sleep with people I care for.”  
  
“Then why did you have sex with me?”  
  
“Because B’Elanna said that would be my best bet for getting you to agree to my plan.”  
  
“Ah, well, considering that she practically grew up with me around, she would be one to know that.”  
  
Chakotay reached for her, caressing the side of her face. “But that’s not why I’m with you anymore.”  
  
The satisfaction that had briefly overtaken her numbness went cold. He never said as much before, but she’d realized back on the Vulcan spy ship that his feelings for her had developed beyond simple lust. He was falling in love with her, and she had let him.  
  
“Stay with me,” he whispered, his fingers gently stroking her hair, her cheek, her lips.  
  
Kathryn knew exactly what he was asking her to do—bequeath her ship to Harry, join his crew, help him fight for Terran freedom. He knew she didn’t believe in the cause, but neither did he. They would be two pragmatists, two survivors, bringing together their experience and cunning and passion in a union that neither the resistance nor the Alliance would see coming. They would be a force to be reckoned with.  
  
Phoebe would have wanted her to say yes.  
  
But Kathryn was not her sister. She wasn’t a romantic, and she knew better than to fall for opportunities that seemed too good to be true. Happiness, altruism, love... such ideals were traps for optimists and fools, and they would do nothing but get her killed.  
  
Or worse, they would break her heart all over again—if she even had one anymore.

Chakotay pulled her body close and pressed his lips to hers. He must have seen her hesitation, for the kiss was slow, emotional, and lingering. When he finally broke free, he asked her again, “Please stay.”  
  
She stroked his face. “Go to sleep, Chakotay.”  
  
With a heavy sigh, he pressed his forehead to hers and said nothing more.  
  
Kathryn waited until she was sure he’d fallen asleep—when his hands slipped from her waist and didn’t return, when his muscles ceased to twitch and gentle snores filled the air, when she whispered his name and he didn’t stir. Only then did she slowly, carefully, extract herself from his embrace and find her feet. She collected her clothes and the gear they’d both carried from _Ching Shih_ , and she shut herself in the head. Piece by piece, she girded herself against the threat of assassination even as she closed her mind to the ghosts whispering in her ear.  
  
It was for the best, she told herself. For everyone.  
  
Once every fastening was in place and every weapon secured, Kathryn crept back to Chakotay’s bedside for one last look. His face was relaxed, his arm sprawled across the bed where she had been, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

A few days before, she’d intended to kill him when the mission was done. At the time, it was advantageous. The way he’d spoken, it seemed he would be the only person who knew she had the cloaking device. Killing him had meant assurance that such knowledge would stay a secret.

Since then, she’d learned that he wasn’t alone. He might be the only Terran aware of the truth beyond her own crew, but there were at least two members of the Vulcan spy network who knew. Likely, there were a few more. Chances were decent the Alliance—if the Alliance survived the battle at Tzenketh—would have her name somewhere on a list of people to investigate regarding the device’s disappearance. It served her no purpose to kill Chakotay anymore except perhaps to mitigate any future temptation she may have to seek him out.

That alone should have been reason enough.

She touched her fingers—just barely—to the tattoo above his heart and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Beyond the door, two guards stood watch. “Take me to the transporter pad,” she said when she emerged from the room. “I’ll be returning to my ship now.”  
  
The stoic one—B’Elanna had called him Mike—nodded at the other, an angry-looking woman who shouldered Kathryn aside and disappeared into Chakotay’s quarters. A moment later, she returned, confirming their captain was unharmed.  
  
Then Mike looked at Kathryn. “Follow me.”  
  
As they walked, something kept tugging at Kathryn’s mind, refusing to let go. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Michael Ayala.”  
  
“And why, Mister Ayala, are you the one watching over your captain late into the night like a grunt when you have the authority to assign someone else to the task?”  
  
The man paused in front of the lift, calling it before turning to meet her gaze. “My family is alive because of him. Keeping him safe is the least I can do to repay that debt.”  
  
The doors of the lift _whooshed_ open and Kathryn followed Ayala inside. “Well, you won’t have to worry about me for much longer. _Ching Shih_ will be departing as soon as our scout returns from Tzenketh with information about the battle.”  
  
He tapped a key for the first deck, clasped his hands behind his back, and stared straight ahead. “No offense, ma’am, but I’m more concerned about what destruction you’ll leave in your wake than what you do with the captain in private.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
The lift slowed, settled into place, and opened. Ayala strode into the corridor and rounded the first corner he came to, revealing a small transporter pad.  
  
Kathryn stepped onto the pad and turned towards the man. “Like you, Mister Ayala, I have people to protect and a duty to uphold. I’m sure you can understand that.”  
  
“I’m not here for duty.” He took his place at the operations console.  
  
“Of course not. You’re here for the same reason why I can’t stay.”  
  
“Which is?”  
  
She smiled, though inside she didn’t feel any pleasure at all. “Freedom.”

He gave a final nod. “Safe journey, Captain Janeway.”  
  
Before she had the chance to respond, she was standing on _Ching Shih’s_ transporter pad looking at a member of her own crew. “Operations Mate Swinn,” she greeted as she stepped off the platform and made for the gear and weapons lockers.

The dark-skinned Terran woman nodded. “Welcome back, Captain.”

Kathryn zipped off her tactical vest and stowed it in a locker. “Thank you. Has Master Gunner Cavit returned with our new recruit yet?”

“He has the Trill and is en route to our location, Captain.”

“Good,” Kathryn said, retrieving her usual armor and wrapping the first piece around her waist. “I want to be informed as soon as they arrive.”

“Aye, Captain.”

She folded herself into the high-collared shoulder piece and fastened it over her chest. “Oh, and let’s not continue referring to Miss Tigan by her species. It would hardly foster her integration into the crew.”

”Of course, Captain. I apologize.”

“No need, Crewman,” Kathryn said. She snapped the locker shut and turned to her transporter expert. “I’ve been doing the same thing myself. But I think the time for that particular distinction has passed. We’re independent now, which means we will take whoever has the skills and fortitude to be one of us, regardless of where they come from.”

A hint of a smile appeared at the corners of Swinn’s mouth. “Aye, Captain.”

“Spread the word. And do get some sleep. I suspect we’ll have an early start tomorrow.” With that, Kathryn swept out of the room.

Back in the sanctuary of her own quarters, Kathryn removed her armor and placed it carefully on the dress form. She peeled off her clothes and recycled them, then took a very hot shower. Soon enough, she was curled between the soft sheets on her bed. Although she did feel somewhat better after her evening with Chakotay, her mind still refused to be quiet.

At least it wasn’t Seska on her mind—at least, not directly. Instead, she thought of her next mission, the mission after that, and all the missions to come that would shape her into something new.

Victory or death. That had been her motto for so many years, but it no longer seemed to fit. If she could vanish into the void like a ghost, people might begin to question whether or not she was truly alive. Chakotay would keep her secret—of that, she was sure—and the Vulcan spy network tended to play their cards close to their chests. 

True, Kathryn would never again enjoy the prestige of working for those who held the only real power in both quadrants, but she had seized a third option for herself and her crew. With the cloaking device, she could survive as a legend regardless of whether or not she defeated every mark.

The monster under the bed wasn’t terrifying because of its effectiveness, but because of its myth.

* * *

Somehow, Kathryn managed to get a few hours of sleep before one of the ops managers contacted her. Cavit had returned with Ezri Tigan, as well as an interesting report about the battle at Tzenketh.

The Alliance had cracked.

It wasn’t official yet. Supreme Legate Dukat had made no official statements, the Klingons were still trying to pretend there was no power vacuum in their empire, and the Bajorans were more than happy to sit back and watch the other two tear each other apart. But across the entire sector, Alliance troops were turning on each other. Soon, it would be happening everywhere.

On the bridge, Kathryn sank into her command chair and motioned for Ezri to approach. “I’m glad to see you made it off the Vulcan spy ship unharmed.”  
  
“I’m good at slipping past guards,” the young woman said as she stepped up to Kathryn’s seat.  
  
“A helpful talent to have in this line of work.”  
  
“I imagine so. Thanks for giving me a ride.”  
  
Kathryn smiled and crooked a finger, beckoning Ezri closer.

Ezri hesitated, then leaned in.  
  
Kathryn cupped Ezri’s cheek, drawing her ear to Kathryn’s lips, and murmured, “You see that main operations console over there?”  
  
Ezri must have glanced, but her head didn’t move. “Yes.”  
  
“Half of that is yours so long as you never, ever, sell me out. Everything you need I will give to you, so long as you remain loyal to me. Can you do that?”

“I can do that.”

“‘Aye, Captain’ will be a sufficient response from now on.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Good.” Kathryn leaned back. “Is the device ready?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Kathryn lifted a brow.  
  
“I mean, aye, Captain.”

The door opened, depositing Harry and Tom onto the bridge.  
  
“Good. Then take your station. Oh, and make sure you keep it clean. Mister Kim likes his workspaces tidy.”  
  
“Captain’s right,” Harry said as he sauntered over to ops and relieved his opsmate. “I’ll cut a bitch for making a mess.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ezri said, sliding into the seat beside him.  
  
“Oh,” Tom said, taking the helm, “uh, Har, there’s something I should tell you.”  
  
“Let me guess. You left you left a mess in my sink after you shaved… again.”  
  
Tom tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Kinda, yeah.”  
  
Harry shook his head, doing a poor job of concealing his amusement. “I’ll deal with you later.”  
  
“Quartermaster Kim,” Kathryn said, “are we ready to move on?”  
  
“Aye, Ca—“ Harry blinked as the word _Quartermaster_ sank into his brain. He looked like a glitching holoimage.

“Well, QM?” Kathryn asked.

He tipped his head. “Uh, aye, Captain.”

She twisted her chair around and locked it in forward position. “Recalibrate sensors for stealth maneuvers, and be ready to activate the cloak once we’re beyond _Valjean’s_  sensor range. Helm, warm up the warp engines.”  
  
“Course?” Tom asked.  
  
“Chin’toka.”  
  
“Cardassian space?”  
  
“You heard me correctly. I want to give this device a proper test. No better way to do that than carrying out a successful raid on an Alliance ship.”  
  
Tom rubbed the back of his neck, dipped his head, then turned and input the coordinates. “Aye, Captain.”  
  
Was he nervous? No matter. They’d all been playing at being monstrous for years, but Kathryn had no doubt that they were ready to become the real thing. The time for playing games was over.

Whatever fear Tom felt, he kept it to himself. “Course set.”

“Should I inform _Valjean_  of our departure, Captain?” Harry asked.

Kathryn paused for a moment—just a moment—before shaking her head. “No, Captain Chakotay is already aware of my intentions. However, I do want you to forward them a copy of the data Gunner Cavit collected on the battle. No doubt they’ll find it most… illuminating.”

“Aye, Captain,” Harry said. A few seconds later, he confirmed the transmission was received.  
  
Kathryn leaned forward, anticipating the next move. She was finally free and following no one’s orders but her own. “Warp six, Helmsman. Engage.”

It was time to become a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and help to inspire future works. And yes, there will be future works in this series, so stay tuned. 
> 
> Also, be sure to check out a lovely piece of fan art I drew for this story: https://www.deviantart.com/carlynroth/art/When-We-All-Fall-Asleep-791288939


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